


whatever that was

by domeeneec



Category: Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BASICALLY another romance comedy au no one asked for, Comedy, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Freeform, Ghosts, Heartbreak, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Death, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn, Some Sad Feelings, basically the ghost au no one asked for, bjyx - Freeform, mentions of cheating, romcom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29831481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domeeneec/pseuds/domeeneec
Summary: “You’re a ghost.”“I am.”Wang Yibo really was trying to decipher what the fuck was happening in front of him right now, but his brain was very obviously focused on something else, “How the fuck are you so pretty for a ghost?”The very oddly pretty ghost blinked at him for a few seconds, then burst out laughing.Wang Yibo’s new apartment is being haunted by an oddly pretty ghost. Ironically, with him, Yibo feels the most alive.
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan | Sean
Comments: 93
Kudos: 382





	whatever that was

**Author's Note:**

> hi . i'm back w indulging with aus i've been craving for . i apologize if some turn out ooc B( but well . i still hope whoever reads this enjoys B) these are all fantasy shit btw very obvious B) i'm sorry for any grammar errors and typos ! i just wanted 2 post it asap bec i have a bad habit of deleting drafts i've kept for too long B( title is from the song "whatever that was" by shes only sixteen . hecka bop man

Wang Yibo huffed as he looked around the place. It was a very home-y place, that’s for sure. Too home-y. The couch was the kind his mother would definitely like, the lamps were customized with knitted covers, and the even the curtains were cute, all covered with aesthetically drawn cats. Yibo blinked even more, taking in the sight of the television in the living, the vase neatly placed on top of the coffee table—then turned— the lacy table cloth on the dining table, the organized kitchen, the cute little whiteboard stuck on the fridge covered with little magnetic cats.

Nodding to himself, he has concluded that the old owner of this place was a cat lady. No one can convince him otherwise. Everything was soft and comfortable and cat-covered, and he was sure as fuck the lamp covers were handmade.

He then turned to look at his best friend, Seungyoun, who was also absorbing the sight of the new place.

“Cat lady. I think a cat lady lived here—"

His mouth was suddenly being covered.

Seungyoun’s cheerful voice rung in his ears, turning to the seller with a smile, “He’ll take it!”

* * *

“This place isn’t my style.”

“I can see that, dude, but you needed a place, right? And this was weirdly cheap as fuck and has everything you need to live. Seriously, I don’t know what luck you have to find a cheap furnished place but you have it.”

Yibo grumbled to himself, shifting on the couch until he was half-lying down, cheek smooshed, “I don’t like this.” He closed his eyes as he took in the scent of the sofa which should probably be gross, but wasn’t. It smelled like lavender and roses mixed together. It was oddly comforting.

He heard Seungyoun huff exasperatedly above him. Soon, he felt fingers running through his hair and then a weight on the space above his head, indicating Seungyoun must have sat down. At that, the younger adult quickly took that as a chance to use his lap as a pillow. When he heard him let out a chuckle, he let himself even be more comfortable, now fully lying down, letting his legs hang from the couch’s arm. His best friend continued patting at his head. Yibo whined again, “I don’t like this.”

“Well, heartbreak always sucks, Yibo.”

Yibo shook his head, pouting slightly, “I’m not heartbroken.”

The patting stopped, “You’re not?”

He shook his head.

“You know you just found out your girlfriend of three years has been cheating on you, right?”

He nodded, “She started doing it two years into our relationship. I’m not exactly surprised.”

Suddenly, he was being manhandled into a sitting position, giving him the shittiest whiplash, “Hey, what the fu—”

In a blink, he was face to face with Seungyoun who was looking at him with the most devastated look he’s seen him wear in his lifetime. It made his chest ache a bit and his eyes glassy. The lump on his throat was starting to get hard to ignore the more his best friend stared at him, as though he was searching for something in his face. At that, Yibo couldn’t help lift the side of his lip, aiming for a smile hoping to extinguish the tension.

In the next moment, he was getting pulled into a tight hug.

He didn’t cry.

Instead, he let himself stare into whatever he could find within the confines of the living room.

There was a little stuffed cat beside the television.

It was pretty cute.

* * *

Yibo wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t heartbroken. He’s known she’s been cheating on him from the very first day she went out with the guy—caught them out on a date. It just so happened they were on the process of moving in together in their new apartment because that’s how dumb impulsive newly-graduated college kids were. Maybe during that time, he _was_ heartbroken. He remembered being naïve enough to think it won’t last long with her affair since they were going to live together. He _did_ love her—didn’t have the heart to go and expose her or approach her.

Instead, he tried acting normally around her. But as weeks progressed and random unknown calls and texts continued buzzing through her mobile, Yibo couldn’t help but feel the need to distance himself. He let himself dive hard into his old hobbies—buying a skateboard, filling the apartment with his Lego collection.

He signed up for motorbiking lessons and also signed up as a dancing instructor in his close friend’s studio. He filled his schedule up to the point that he got home early morning, all to repeat everything when the sun rises again. And again. And again.

It went on for weeks. Then months. A whole year.

It wasn’t until he found clothes in the closet that weren’t his that he found himself calling Seungyoun to tell him his girlfriend was cheating on him—sometimes even staying over their place. All he knew was that he was tired. Then everything went by like a flash.

His best friend was knocking angrily at the door.

In a blink, they were packing.

In another, they were in Seungyoun’s car.

In the next, he was in his apartment, calling his mom to tell her about what happened.

And at last, he was lying down on his friend’s couch, staring at the ceiling, wondering when he stopped _feeling_.

He wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t heartbroken. But through the year of coping through it, he might have accidentally made himself stop feeling. And he didn’t like that.

He felt empty.

* * *

Wang Yibo woke up alone in his new apartment, feeling nothing. He didn’t remember falling asleep which meant he probably tired himself out yesterday. He frowned at the ceiling before sitting up and scrubbing at his face. He had to go to the studio, he had a session today. He then turned his head to squint at the wall clock above the door frame to find it already past the studio’s opening. He merely frowned, though, feeling too numb to be panicked. He could just apologize and make it up to the other instructors and students.

At that, he grabbed at his phone. There were three unread messages: two from Seungyoun and one from Yixuan-ge, the studio’s head.

**_woodz:_ ** _told xuan-ge what happened. u hav the week off. get some rest, dumbass. no working_

**_woodz:_ ** _there’s take-out by the fridge cos we both can’t cook_

**_xg:_ ** _Take the week off, didi. I’ll handle all your sessions. I’m sorry about what happened. Let’s have a drink soon, okay? :)_

Yibo sighed at that.

Well, now, he had nothing to do. His motorbiking lessons ended just recently, and he’s already finished all his Lego sets for this month. He could go skate but this apartment didn’t exactly have a clear space for him to glide around. His routine was ruined.

He then paused.

Why was he doing all that anyway? Why’d he keep his schedule full, anyway? They all weren’t as fun anymore, now that he thought of it. He just did it to keep his mind occupied. The lessons kept his focus on his students and the new moves, the Legos made his brain focus on the instructions, the adrenaline of both riding and skating made him forget whatever was going on in his life, boosting his serotonin even for just a few hours.

He lied back down. He didn’t like that. He could remember loving all those and now they’ve amounted to nothing but distraction mechanisms. He accidentally rewrote the memories on those activities which sucked. He took a deep breath and covered both of his eyes, pressing his palms hard until the pressure started to hurt, then let out a loud groan.

Fuck that.

He pouted and frustratedly hit his chest for not working like it should. He then turned to his side before pulling the covers up to his shoulders, settling into the soft mattress and pillows. He turned his phone on and clicked a random episode from an anime he saved, then settled it back on the bedside table, letting the noise consume him. When he found himself lulling back to sleep, his mind blearily took note of the little stuffed cat chilling by the side table. The one that was settled by the television in the living room. Questions about how it got there gradually faded, though, as he finally closed his eyes.

* * *

Wang Yibo woke up to a loud crashing noise, making him sit up in surprise. Very quickly, he got off the bed and went out of the bedroom to see the television on.

He made his way towards it and clicked it off, cursing Seungyoun in his head. Idiot must have forgotten to turn it off before going last night, jeez. Just ‘cause he had cash, doesn’t mean he could afford to be careless about utility bills.

With a huff, he turned to see the window, taking note of the dimming sky. At that, he turned on all the lights and walked back into the bedroom, crashing back into the bed.

He closed his eyes again.

* * *

The next time he woke up, it was already surely night time and he felt his stomach grumble. He stood up and walked straight to the kitchen to find whatever take-out Seungyoun told him about.

Taking in the plastic bag and pulling out the containers, Yibo went ahead and dug in without even bothering to heat it. With stuffed cheeks, he let himself look around the nice and home-y kitchen, eyes landing on the little whiteboard by the fridge.

He blinked.

All the cat magnets that were scattered were suddenly positioned on one side. On the empty space, a little “hi” was written. Yibo couldn’t help but shake his head at that, snickering slightly. His best friend must have found the board amusing. Well, he gets it. The previous cat lady owner was pretty cute to have all these stuck on the fridge.

With that, he walked over, grabbing the little whiteboard pen tied to the board.

Very quickly, he wrote a: “hello.” Then drew a little cat beside it.

He smiled to himself, feeling slightly satisfied.

At that, his chest felt lighter.

He continued to eat.

* * *

On the next morning Wang Yibo woke up, the little stuffed cat that was supposedly on his bedside table was sitting on his chest.

And listen, for someone who hasn’t felt extremely about anything for nearly a year, he genuinely wasn’t expecting the very first strong feeling he’d ever feel after it was _fear_. Because that? That shit was _not_ normal. No fucking _wind_ could carry a stuffed cat that fucking fat.

Sitting abruptly, Yibo grabbed at the toy and threw it across the room with wide eyes. His chest was pounding like crazy and his brain was suddenly filled with every horror movie and game his friends have forcefully made him experience. _Holy fuck_.

Quickly, he grabbed at his phone, his experience from the previous day suddenly sinking in. At that, he immediately dialed for Seungyoun’s number. He was staring at the doll on the floor as his phone rang, fingers thrumming impatiently at his knee.

And fucking _finally._

“Yo!”

“Did you leave the TV on before you left?”

“Wh—I’m not a _monster_. I know what it feels like to be poor.”

_Holy fuck._

“H-How about the whiteboard? Did you write on it?”

“What? What whiteboard?”

“The one on the fridge? With the little cat magnets?”

“Aw. What? That’s so cute!”

_Oh my god_. Yibo was going to _die_. He _interacted_ with a fucking _ghost_. He could feel his chest pounding and his everything turn cold, fear now fully consuming his body.

“S-S-Seungyoun.”

“Yo?”

“I think my place is haunted.”

* * *

Laughing. His best friend was currently laughing at him, even tearing up a little.

Yibo frowned at the older adult, glaring as hard as he can so the bastard could take a hint that this was definitely _not_ a laughing matter. But it seems as though he was immune to all of Yibo’s terrifying looks because he only laughed harder, choking a bit.

It took approximately five minutes before he calmed down, wiping at his eyes, “Oh my god, you unintentionally communicated with a cat lady’s ghost. This is the most hilarious shit—"

“ _It’s not funny.”_

“It kinda is, bro.” Yibo rolled his eyes at him, sipping loudly at his straw, concentrating on the taste of coffee, hoping it’ll help with his fucking headache. After his phone call with Seungyoun, he ran out of his own fucking apartment, wearing nothing but a random hoodie and some sweats he pulled out from his unpacked bags in a rush. He also didn’t forget his phone and his wallet, of course, and so he’s been staying in the nearest café, a few streets away from his apartment.

“Anyways,” he let out a cough, “Let me stay in your apartment again.”

Seungyoun let out a chuckle, but he could see his expression shift into something more apologetic, “Dude. I mean, I’d love to. But well, my housemate’s family is staying for a few weeks, remember? It’s cramped as it is.”

Yibo let out a huff at that, the memory of Seungyoun telling him rushing in, “Right. Fuck, right, that’s why we went around to find a place for me.” At that, slumped until his forehead was touching the cold table, closing his eyes hard and keeping in a groan. He felt a hand pat at his head, comforting.

“Hey, maybe it won’t be too bad. Maybe she’s just doing that to scare you off, but as far as you’ve seen, they’re all harmless attempts. Knives aren’t flying around, right?”

A shiver climbed Yibo’s spine at the thought of a bloody cat lady holding a knife. At that he let himself groan, _“Shut up.”_ A laugh was the response so he lifted his finger to very obviously flip him off.

“Okay. How about you give it a few more days and when the weekend comes, we can go find someone to exorcise it or whatever they do to ghosts, yeah?”

Very slowly, Yibo lifted his head, squinting at his best friend, “Really?”

“Really.”

The younger sighed in relief at that. Alright. Just a few more days then he’ll be safe. He huffed again, giving his friend a grateful look, “Alright. That’s cool. I can probably hold off for a few more days. Just keep myself distracted, I’m good at that.”

He tried not to wince at his words, automatically pushing back the sudden surge of heaviness in his chest. Shaking his head, he reminded himself this was different. This wasn’t him distracting himself from shitty happenings of his sad life, this was him distracting himself from ghostly activities. Okay, at that, he really couldn’t hold in his expression ‘cause fuck. Was he going to survive a few days? That honestly sounded worse.

A snort pulled him out of his head. Blinking, he found Seungyoun staring at him, an amused glint in his eyes. Raising a brow, he tilted his head, “What?”

The guy shook his head, smiling, “Nothing, nothing. You just seem more _expressive_.”

Yibo frowned at that, confused. Before he could even say anything, though, Seungyoun spoke again, “Also, I think I’m starting to understand why your apartment was so fucking cheap.”

He threw his napkin at him. If he didn’t care about public decency, he would’ve thrown his cup at him too.

* * *

Yibo dropped the plastic bag of his purchases on top of the kitchen counter, squinting at his surroundings. He intentionally made sure not to look at the fridge because he was sure he was going to end up running out of his apartment again if he ever found a response. Ignorance is bliss, yadda-yadda.

When he’s sure he didn’t feel any sort of supernatural activity, he sighed in relief, pulling out the six cans of beer he bought. He stared at the pack, letting himself relax. He hasn’t drank in a long time and what better time to drink than now, right? He had a week off, he was supposedly going through a heartbreak, and a ghost was haunting his apartment. Exhaustion suddenly filled his being at the thought of all that. It’s kind of perfect, actually. He hasn’t let himself loosen up in a year so he’ll do just that.

He walked his way towards the couch, laying all the cans on the coffee table. He grabbed at the remote and turned on the television, settling for a random channel, then going on his merry way to start drinking.

He hasn’t eaten dinner so he was fully aware he was going to get drunk in no time—which was the goal. He did his best to push back all the inner voices calling himself pathetic at that moment. He was self-aware enough to admit that he wasn’t usually like this. Whenever he was in a slump, his brain would easily come up of a bunch of things he could do to feel better. He was a pretty shallow guy and usually, he could find anything that would easily motivate him, his heart usually ready to jump and love.

Gulping down the first can, he closed his eyes. But it looked like he went overboard of trying not to feel too much that it backfired.

On his third can, he was trying to forcibly remember how it felt like to do the things he loved to do. He tried to remember the warmth that usually burst through his chest when he danced, when he skated, when he rode, when he played. But every time he did, a whole new memory’s already made its way through these activities, tainting it. He went to the studio early morning ‘cause he knew she and his guy would meet by their building entrance late morning. He rode the motorcycle to avoid feeling any overpowering feeling of hurt or anger, replacing it with adrenaline. He skated every night, on the way to the nearest convenience store, then would try to go back when she’s fast asleep. On weekends, when they’re supposedly home together, he’d build Legos, drowning out the feeling of betrayal for every “I love you” and all the smiles directed at him.

There were days where he’d believe the cycle would end. She’d smile at him, hug him, would tell him she missed him and would ask why he’d always be so busy. But whenever he’d insist he can cancel anything he’d do, her eyes would be filled with surprise, panic filling its core, then she’d use the same line, “No, it’s okay! I can hang out with my friends. We can both do what we both love.” 

He’d merely smile then go back to doing his thing, spending hours on his set as she giggled at her phone.

He didn’t push it.

Didn’t want to push it.

Didn’t want to feel anything.

On his fifth can, the world was spinning. His vision was blurring at the sides. He felt like an idiot. He was such an idiot. He could have left. He could’ve just gone out, approached her, told everyone she was cheating, then moved out. He could’ve spared the whole coping mechanism that fucked up with his feelings and his heart. Maybe if he did that, he’d feel more alive. Maybe he’d still feel the usual burning sensation in his chest when he looked at life.

He missed it.

When he finished his sixth can, he lied down on the couch. The world was spinning even more so and his head was throbbing, chest pounding, but he was breathing steadily. He knew why he didn’t do shit and he fully knew well why he did the shit he did. It’s because he _did_ love her. And he was the type to love with his whole heart, to clutch, and to never let go—to do anything to keep everything okay. It was how he used to go about living. He couldn’t help but laugh at that. He was young. Really young. He’s still young so—

“I was allowed to be an idiot.”

The room was quiet. He could hear his heart though. Pretty damn loud.

“I’ll fix it.”

His eyes were starting to get heavy.

“I’m Wang Yibo. ‘M cool.”

He closed his eyes. He could suddenly hear shifting at his side but he couldn’t care less. The alcohol in his system was blurring everything out, which was _good_ , somehow.

_“Aiyo, Wang Yibo, you’re being pretty uncool right now, though.”_

Yibo shifted on the couch, sleep slowly starting to seep in through his system, the scent of lavender and roses filling his nose at every breath. Whoever owned that voice, it was nice. Really comforting.

“ _You even spilled some on my coffee table, you brat.”_

Wow. Honestly. Such a nice voice. If he could, he’d record that voice and let it play on his phone whenever he needed to sleep. Maybe on like, non-tiring days. Yeah. Perfect. When he wakes up in the morning, he’s definitely going to ask the stranger to record his voice for him. He smiled proudly at that thought. It was a pretty smart thought, good on him.

Wait.

He could ask now, while he’s there! Smart, Wang Yibo.

“R’cord your voice for me. Y’ve a nice voice. Like it ‘lot.” His voice turned croaky and slurry but he still did a good job. He gave himself a mental pat on the back. He didn’t bother opening his eyes, though. Lights were painful to the eyes. If he opened it, it’ll hurt.

“ _Wait. You can hear me?”_

Wang Yibo blacks out.

* * *

When Yibo opened his eyes, he was met with the brightest pair of eyes he’s ever seen. He blinked, trying to adjust his sight and his first thought through his headache was _wow_. Towering over him was the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, complexion bright, hair soft-looking, wearing the cutest baby blue sweater. He was also blinking at Yibo, as though stunned, but he couldn’t help but think that the way he was blinking confusedly was adorable. Even his cheeks looked soft and would probably feel good on his palm, and Yibo, being half-asleep, gave into his desire to feel it.

He lifted his hand, ready to cup the pretty man’s cheek when suddenly, his hand went right through him. He couldn’t help but scrunch his brows at that, frustrated. He tried again and the same shit happened.

Yibo blinked at the figure, mind rebooting. That wasn’t normal. That definitely was not normal.

He looked up at the man with wide eyes. His dawning realization must have been wildly apparent on his face because the next thing he knew was the guy let out a giggle. A very cute giggle. And he would honestly be telling him it was cute right now if it weren’t for the fact that Yibo was now screaming.

“ _WHAT THE FUCK.”_

Yibo sat up abruptly, falling off the couch. And one would expect he’d end up hitting the stranger beside him but _no_. He went through him again, making him scream even more.

“Why the fuck does that keep happening???”

“ _That’s_ what you’re asking about?”

The young adult couldn’t help but look up at the man incredulously, “What else would I ask??? People don’t just pass-through people!”

He was suddenly met with a smile, “Well, that’s because I’m a ghost, dummie. I don’t know how you’re more afraid of my little home-made Jiangou—the little stuffed cat you threw which was rude, by the way— _when_ ,” he then gestured at himself, “You’re seeing the real thing.” The guy’s smile was as bright as his eyes for some odd fucking reason. And he smiled so big, so playfully, that it made his eyes turn into little crescents. And—wait.

He’s a ghost.

Yibo blinked for a few before the weight of that statement sunk in.

He just touched a _ghost_.

Wang Yibo blacks out again.

* * *

“ _Ah Wang Yibo, how many more times are you going to pass out._ ”

The young adult grumbled at the pleasant voice. The voice, although unknown, felt somewhat familiar. It was a nice voice. Probably the type that he’d listen to in a podcast. Not that he listened to podcasts but if this stranger were to be the one to talk in it, he’d definitely subscribe.

“ _Wang Yibo, get the fuck up. You look pathetic.”_

He couldn’t help but scrunch his eyebrows at that because _rude_. People have told him that his sleeping face was nice and serene, _thank you very much_. Besides, he was not pathetic. He was _sleeping_ and he should be left to sleep for longer because he has had a hard week. To add fuel to the fire, his house was haunted and he keeps dreaming about this fucking beautiful-as-fuck ghost—

Wang Yibo opened his eyes as the memories of his encounter with the beautiful man came rushing back. Towering over him just like a while ago was the same guy, head tilted, eyes still as bright. Although a part of him was in awe over how pretty he was, the fact that he was a fucking _ghost_ still overruled everything he was feeling.

Panicking, he stood up abruptly in an attempt to get away from the supernatural being. But he shouldn’t be surprised that his luck was absolute _shit_ that year. He really shouldn’t be surprised that he forgot he was wearing socks which totally made him slip. Making him fall backwards and hitting his head hard.

His last thought before darkness consumed him once more was that he was _totally much cooler than this, really._

* * *

The next time Yibo woke up, the same guy was staring at him. Considering this was the third time, it seems as though this really was real, huh. The young adult blinked at him, squinting slightly. The pretty ghost was looking at him, eyebrows scrunched, hands wandering through his body, as though to check if he was okay. He looked absolutely worried. Yibo felt a tinge of guilt in his chest for being the cause of that look.

He closed his eyes, trying to process everything but it was too much, so he ended up just groaning.

“Is this your house? Is this why you’re haunting it? Do I have to lead you into the light or whatever?” Because that’s how movies went, right?

He hears a snort, “Are you always this weird?”

Yibo glared at the guy, lower lip jutting out. If he were in a better state, he would try to answer with a cool comeback, but he was going through shit right now so he let it slide. Instead, he tried to focus on calming himself down, his logical brain taking over every bit of lingering fear in his body. After a few minutes of silence, he lets out a defeated sigh. This was actually happening. He was talking to a fucking ghost. Somehow, instead of being scared, he felt tired. He blames his very sad head.

“Alright. Cool. Before anything else. Just—Do you happen to keep ice packs in the freezer?” Because he was sure as _fuck_ he had a big-ass bump at the back of his head. It wasn’t helping that it was aching along with his hangover head shit.

A giggle was the response. It was almost rewarding.

* * *

“You’re a ghost.”

“I am.”

That was actually the fifth time he’s had to make sure because Wang Yibo really was trying to decipher what the fuck was happening in front of him right now, but his brain was very obviously focused on something else, “How the fuck are you so pretty for a ghost?”

The very oddly pretty ghost blinked at him for a few seconds, then burst out laughing.

Was Yibo offended? Perhaps, considering this was no laughing matter. But so many things were running through his mind. He should be running out of the apartment right now, screaming his head off about how a ghost just appeared in front of him. He should be freaking out about he was actually _talking_ to one. But as aforementioned, his brain was focusing on a totally different thing. Like how this supernatural being’s laughter seemed to make the whole room brighter than it already was. Or how he could see a mole just below his lip. And that he had very cute dimples. Besides, he couldn’t afford to be all hysterical considering he was nursing a bump and a sad headache. He needed to focus on that and probably asking all the questions he could ask the guy.

Yibo shook himself out of his trance, looking up at the guy again, confused, “Why do you look so,” He squinted at him, “ _Human?”_

Pretty Guy laughed even harder, clutching at his stomach now, “Oh my god. The first person to ever see me after god-knows-how-many-years is an idiot. How many times did your head get hit?”

Okay, he really _was_ offended now, “It’s a serious question. Aren’t ghosts supposed to look like—” An image of Sadako from The Ring popped in his head, making himself shake his head to remove it, “Like, in horror movies.” A sudden thought popped in his head, “And aren’t you supposed to be a cat lady???”

The ghost stranger suddenly looked at him, expression slightly affronted, bunny teeth— _bunny teeth—_ gritted, “ _Hey._ Ladies aren’t the only ones who can like cats, you know? Wang Yibo, are you even human? I would hit you if I could.”

Yibo blinked, “You know my name.”

The stranger huffed, conveniently sitting on the couch, “Well, yeah. You were talking to yourself last night about how you’ll fix yourself.”

Then there was silence. Wang Yibo sat on the couch quietly, staring at the supposed ghost beside him, trying to collect all the information he could take in before processing everything.

Yibo couldn’t help but chuckle helplessly at this situation, one hand rubbing at his face. “Shit. I’m really not dreaming, am I?”

He heard shifting beside him, “Nope.”

He let out a sigh, letting himself look at the ghost once more, “Why am I not scared of you? I should be scared of you. I mean I _was_ scared of you but I got over it too quickly. I’m scared of the dark and ghosts. But I mean, you’re really not the scary, somehow. Or maybe it’s ‘cause I got hit in the head a billion times.”

The ghost let out a surprised laugh, “Ah, are you always this talkative? I’m not some all-knowing ghost, you dummie. This is just my house and I guess something happened then I probably died, now here I am, okay?”

This did not help at all. This actually just ended up with Yibo having a billion more questions like _how’d you die?_ and _why do you sound like you don’t remember anything?_ But ghost or not, Yibo was aware that dropping those kinds of questions would be too rude and insensitive. And even though he’s known to have a shitty filter, there were still very rare times he had restraint, okay? At this, he controlled his mouth and took a few moments to stare at the ghost, settling for one question instead.

“What’s your name?”

There were a few seconds of stunned silence. The man suddenly smiled, as though he found the question delightful. It was big and bright and made his eyes turn into little crescents that shouldn’t be as adorable as it is but it was and—

“Xiao Zhan. My name’s Xiao Zhan.”

Wang Yibo paused before nodding firmly, something settling in his chest, “Well, nice to meet you, Xiao Zhan. I’m sorry for intruding but know I’m staying because I already paid the down payment and have nowhere else to go.”

Xiao Zhan’s surprised cackle was enough to convince him that perhaps living with a ghost won’t be too bad.

* * *

Wang Yibo woke up the next day, staring at the ceiling, trying to recall what’s happened the past few days. He moved out from his ex’s apartment. He is now staying in a new cheap furnished apartment he and Seungyoun found. Turning his head, he found the stuffed cat by the bedside table. He blinked at it, his mind supplying that her name as “Jiangou.”

At that thought, Yibo closed his eyes, trying to reach deep within his chest to see how he felt—if he could find anything at all. But he found nothing. Like usual.

With an exhale, he opened his eyes again, the side of his lip lifting slightly. It was worth a try.

He then sat up, taking a glance at the wall clock, before deciding to stand up and shower. He spent the whole night fixing all his things until he was exhausted. He honestly couldn’t remember how he got back to bed but here he was. Something must have possessed him to walk back without him thinking.

He took his time walking to the bathroom, stripping his shirt as he entered. His mind felt like mush, unbearably empty. He should think of what he should do today before he spirals back into the icky feeling of nothingness he usually had to tolerate. Frowning, he stretched and cracked his neck. He should buy some food. Then what?

Huffing, he bent to pull off his pajamas down—

“You use 3-in-1 shampoo?”

Yibo slipped.

* * *

“You slip a lot, don’t you?”

If this keeps up, Yibo’s skull will definitely be going through some major damages. Frowning, he glared at the pretty ghost who was now staring at him amusedly as he iced a different part of his head. He was going to consider himself lucky enough that he didn’t hit the same spot from yesterday. They were staring at each other, seated on the bedroom’s bed.

“Who do you think is the reason why?”

Although he woke up feeling nothing, he was sure as fuck he was feeling a lot of things right now, all ranging from embarrassment to annoyance to _pain_. Mostly _pain._

“Not my fault you didn’t see me! I was hovering over you, Wang Yibo!”

Yibo swatted his arm at the guy for it to pass through him. _Right_. That was one thing he forgot through his recollection of events in the morning. He was now living with a ghost who was haunting this place named Xiao Zhan. Even though he met this guy yesterday, he was actually starting to get unusually chill with his presence. Well, since hitting wasn’t doing shit, he resorted to glaring intensely at the ghost until he was slumping, probably feeling slightly apologetic.

With that, he tried again, “Who’s the reason why I keep getting hurt?”

Mumbling, Xiao Zhan squinted at him, “Me…”

Yibo smiled at that triumphantly, “Nice.” Feeling satisfied, he let himself lie down, one hand still clutching the ice pack at his head. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Xiao Zhan do the same. Quietly, he hears the guy let out an apology to which he acknowledged with a hum. Soon enough, the room was covered with comfortable silence.

It was kind of nice.

He was lying down with a ghost and it was nice.

He didn’t mind this newness.

The young adult turned to look at Xiao Zhan, something stirring at his chest, “So what do you want to do today? Search up your name? Maybe we can find out why you haven’t crossed the light. That’s how movies work, right?”

He was actually teasing because for some reason, his everything’s already adjusted to this reality, but Xiao Zhan didn’t seem fazed, even letting out a surprised laugh, “Wow! It’s our first day together and you already want to get rid of me!” He then gave Yibo a big smile, excitement evident in his eyes, making something in Yibo’s heart tighten, somehow. There really was something about the guy that made him oddly comfortable. If his head wasn’t aching like fuck right now, he’d reevaluate what exactly it was but alas, his head can only take so much.

“I actually want to disassemble and rebuild your Lego sets.”

Wang Yibo paused, blinking. Abruptly, he sat up, sending the guy an offended look because he _was_ offended, “ _What?”_

“C’mon!” Xiao Zhan sat up as well, “It’ll be fun. Besides, you don’t know what you’re going to do today, either.”

The adult squinted at him, eyebrows scrunching, “You don’t know that.” But the ghost merely rolled his eyes, shrugging, “I kinda do? You seemed indecisive and restless a while ago, and it’s familiar since it’s how I feel when I don’t know what to do. I can somehow feel some things you feel when I stand close enough like this.” He then leaned in close, his face probably a few inches away from Yibo’s, making the human freeze a bit, ears warming. It was kind of unfair how pretty the ghost was, if he were being honest. Much nearer, Yibo can see some features he wasn’t able to notice before, like how long his eyelashes seemed, and how pink his lips were.

His trance was broken when Xiao Zhan suddenly moved back, an eyebrow raised, “Oh. You’re feeling something new but I don’t know what it is.”

Yibo forced himself not to clutch at his chest, especially now that its pounding quickened. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he was feeling either so he shook his head, moving back a bit, “Can you even touch the Legos?”

Xiao Zhan giggled and somehow, Yibo couldn’t refuse.

* * *

That day, he found out Xiao Zhan was 27 years old ( _That means I’m older than you and you should address me with respect, Wang Yibo_. _I’m officially Zhan-ge to you and I can call you Bo-di since you’re 23, how’s that?_ ) He had a cat named Jiangou ( _I know my stuffed cat was based on a real cat, okay? I’m not making this up,)_ and that he doesn’t remember anything else. He admitted he had no idea how long he’s been in his house but he knows it’s _his_ house somehow, familiar with every item inside it ( _I think that’s why I can hold some of my things and sit down and stuff. Ghost physics is really weird, Bo-di, if I ever went to school, it surely would not have prepared me for this.)_

Yibo listened as he talked more and more about little details of the house, why he got the curtains, that the lamps’ covers were indeed his own creation, but when he’d try to dig in deeper, he’d stop, shrug, then laugh saying he doesn’t remember. He said all this as he tried to take a hold of a piece of Lego, nose scrunching every time his finger would pass through.

When he finally succeeded in getting ahold of the piece, he abruptly turned his head towards Yibo, smiling brightly.

Yibo called Seungyoun that night to call off the exorcism. Xiao Zhan’s laughter in the background made his chest do a little weird flip.

* * *

There wasn’t any handbook about ghost-to-human relationships so Wang Yibo wasn’t sure if it was normal to settle and be comfortable with one so quickly but ever since he accompanied with him packing and they spent 5 hours together reassembling (really, it was just Yibo because Xiao Zhan still couldn’t hold the pieces properly,) he can easily admit he liked his presence. Besides, he was sure of one thing and it was the fact that when he was with Xiao Zhan, he felt things. He wasn’t sure what these things were but it wasn’t icky or empty, which was more than what he’s ever wanted in a year’s time.

True enough, he’d still wake up numb. He would spend a few moments just staring at the ceiling, wondering what he could do for the day considering nothing’s been filling his schedule, but whenever he’d start to slowly drown into the nothingness he’s gotten used to, bright eyes would always meet his, halting all his thoughts.

The next thing he knows is that his ears would be filled with “Ah Wang Yibo, get up. You’re an adult!” or “Wang Yibo, buy breakfast!” or “Wang Yibo, stop being lazy.” Then the day would start and end with Xiao Zhan’s voice. There wasn’t a moment he’d be left alone with his thoughts and slowly, he’s also started getting comfortable enough to talk about his shit. Through those days, they’ve managed to break and rebuild a total of 4 of Yibo’s Lego sets. Since they discovered Xiao Zhan can’t actually do more than holding a few pieces and make things float or move, he’s in charge of handing Yibo the pieces.

They’d talk through this process, telling each other random pieces of information and stories. Xiao Zhan managed to talk about his love for One Piece, his memories rushing back to him when he found some of his posters under his bed. Yibo had snickered at this to which Xiao Zhan flicked a piece at him.

“You can’t judge me when you haven’t watched it, Wang Yibo. After we build this, we’re going to download and marathon 20 episodes in one go.”

“You say ‘ _we’_ but you know I’m going to be the one doing all the hard work, right?”

“ _After we build this, we’re going to download and marathon 20 episodes in one go.”_

A laugh escaped Yibo’s mouth at that, placing his attention back to the Lego instructions, his chest feeling warm and excited—something he hasn’t felt in a long time about finishing Lego set. He wanted to drown in it, made him feel giddy somehow. But he pushed it at the back of his head, settling for a grin.

In five-days’ time, Yibo can say he liked living with Xiao Zhan.

Wang Yibo, who was terrified of anything supernatural-related, liked living with a ghost.

Sue him.

* * *

“You’re going to start work again tomorrow, right?”

Yibo was sitting with Zhan-ge on the couch, watching a random movie on the living room television. For some reason, the guy has leveled up from being a ghost to Wang Yibo’s housemate through the week they’ve been together. Or more than that. Perhaps they were friends. If Yibo were being honest, he liked the sound of that better.

Taking a bite of his take out, Yibo nodded at the ghost whose eyes were still glued to the screen, “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

He watched Zhan’s lips lift to a small smile, “Your friend called your boss in here when you crashed the first day.”

Most of the time, Yibo forgets Xiao Zhan’s dead. He’d wake up, stare at the ceiling for a few, then before he drowns deeper in heaviness, he’d blink to find the ghost staring at him excitedly, telling him to get up and do something like eat or play a game or even just watch anything random on the television. He admitted that he’s spent his time alone for too long and being with someone was refreshing. That did things to Yibo’s chest and somehow, he couldn’t reject any request to do anything after that. Not that he minded, though. He liked being able to do things—it kept his brain busy, but not in a way that was exhausting. It was the type that brought sparks through his heart. An interesting feeling. Today was one of those days where Xiao Zhan just wanted to watch together.

“Your memory’s oddly good for someone who doesn’t remember a lot.”

He meant it in a teasing way but it was too late when Yibo realized how rude that sounded. Fuck, he really had no filter. He opened his mouth to take back what he said but the ghost beat him to it, his smile dimming a bit, “Yeah. It kinda sucks I don’t remember anything so,” he turned to look at Yibo, “I’m making it up by remembering what I can remember.”

Well, now, Yibo just felt like an asshole. He bit his tongue to avoid making any further comments and instead, went back to the topic at hand, “You okay with being alone for the week?”

Xiao Zhan looked back at the TV, shrugging, “I’m used to it. Besides, you’ll be back, right?”

Candy pop rocks. It felt as though candy pop rocks doused with lukewarm water covered the entirety of his chest. He bit the inside of his cheek for a few, before lifting the side of his lip.

“Yeah.” It came out as a croak. He then coughed, trying to ignore whatever he was feeling, ignored the tingling in his fingers, “Alright. I’ll keep the TV on in a channel that shows SpongeBob during the day.”

The ghost managed to supernaturally flick a spoonful of rice towards Yibo’s face. Wang Yibo couldn’t help but chuckle when his friend started cussing at him, bunny teeth gritted. It was better than his sad-looking smile.

* * *

On Monday, Wang Yibo woke up to Xiao Zhan’s shouting at him.

“ _WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE UP, YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE._ ”

Random things were flying towards him—his bath towel, the shampoo bottle, even fucking _Jiangou_. The young adult squinted at his mobile to see the time and he was indeed going to be late if he doesn’t get up right now to prepare. Yibo then turned his attention to the frantic ghost, snorting at the sight of him panicking.

“How can you laugh??? How far is your studio even, Wang Yibo??? Why didn’t you set an alarm??? Get up, get up.”

Wang Yibo then grabbed at his towel and shampoo as he sat up, taking Jiangou as well to place back on the bedside table, “I’m up, I’m up. Calm down, I won’t be late, Zhan-ge.”

The pretty ghost rolled his eyes at him. Yibo was sure that if Zhan-ge could touch him, he’d probably be hauling him around by now, pushing him towards where he wants him to be just so he could be punctual, and Yibo was also wildly sure he’d be maniacally laughing through it. But alas, since supernatural beings have limits, the best his ge could do was make frantic gestures. It still made Yibo cackle.

“Wang Yibo, if you’re not out of this door within 15 minutes, I’m going to keep turning on your TV at night. Your electricity bills would sky-rocket.”

“You _wouldn’t._ ”

“ _Try me.”_

Wang Yibo was out of their apartment door in 10 minutes.

He arrived work only 5 minutes late, laughing at the thought of Zhan-ge scolding him considering he may have almost gone above some speed limits in certain streets on his motorbike. His chest was beating wildly through his ride.

It wasn’t until Yixuan-ge was talking to him about his class and what he missed that he realized he didn’t wake up feeling nothing. Actually, he wasn’t even given time to let himself feel anything before his chest was doused with a mix of a lot of things that morning—confusion which turned to panic which turned to amusement which turned to horror. Overall, there was one the overpowered through all those though. He wasn’t sure what it was but—

“Well, someone’s in a good mood.”

Yibo rolled his eyes at Seungyoun’s voice. He’d deny it but for some reason, he couldn’t remove the fucking grin plastered on his face.

* * *

He went home to find Xiao Zhan staring at some random channel. He was frowning, the space between his eyebrows creased. He then gave Yibo a defeated look, rubbing at his neck shyly, “For the next few days, could you actually place it on a channel that features good shows? Looks like I can only manage to turn it on.”

The dancer grinned, “SpongeBob?”

Yibo was able to dodge the remote that came flying towards him.

* * *

In more than two weeks’ time, Wang Yibo was used to living with Xiao Zhan.

He was used to hearing his voice in the morning, He was used to it being the last thing he heard at night. He liked waking up to find him towering over him, as though he’s been waiting for him to wake up ( _You’ve spoiled me, Bo-di. I used to be able to live through god-knows-how-long all alone.)_ He never missed meals because food was one of the biggest things Xiao Zhan loved talking about, especially snacks and biscuits, that there were days he’d randomly remember snack names to which he’d excitedly ask Yibo to buy. He would spend a few minutes just staring at the packaging in awe, smiling widely ( _Aw, I probably ate this a lot. For some reason, I just know I like it.)_

Ever since then, Yibo would always buy random tidbits he’d think Zhan-ge would like—little chip bags, random biscuit brands, cat-themed shit—taking in each and every reaction. There was one day Yibo brought home a can of coffee to which Xiao Zhan’s eyes widened in excitement at. It was “ _I know that brand”_ and _“Starbucks is a café right? I think I used to be a Starbucks guy”_ and his signature giggle that always made the dancer’s chest all warm. Seeing him so happy at being able to recall little tidbits of his life made Yibo’s insides all gooey. It made him want to keep at it, until he’s able to squeeze out every excited and happy giggle out of him.

One night, it wasn’t food that triggered a memory. Instead, it was a song Yibo was practicing for one of his class. They’ve developed a routine where whenever Yibo needed to concentrate, he’d leave the television or laptop on to distract Xiao Zhan and keep him from distracting Yibo. They’ve come to an understanding that if Yibo hadn’t resorted to this, he wouldn’t be able to train and practice at all, making him a bad teacher.

He was in the middle of watching the choreography when all of a sudden, Zhan-ge was beside him, making him yelp in surprise.

“Oi. I told you—”

“Is that EXO’s Growl?”

Yibo blinked at that, stunned, “Yeah. My class chose this for their performance so now, I have to learn it.” He tilted his head in question as he watched Zhan-ge become engrossed the video playing on his phone. All of a sudden, the ghost laughed, covering his face. He let out a long groan. It definitely worried the human.

“Wh. Are you okay? If Zhan-ge doesn’t like this, I can go out to practice.”

Xiao Zhan shook his head, finally removing his hands from his face, “No, no. It’s just. Oh my god.” He let out a high-pitched nervous laugh, “I was a fan. Oh my god. I remember being a fan.” He then covered his face again, “Oh my god, Bo-di, I think I was really gay for Sehun.”

This definitely stunned Yibo into silence. As the silence stretched, Xiao Zhan suddenly stood straight and ran back to the couch, very obviously flustered. It took a few more seconds before the dancer finally processed what he just said, feeling his ears heat up. He looked at his phone, glaring at the Sehun guy, something flaring in his chest.

Pouting, he suddenly felt a new sense of motivation, wanting to kick this song’s choreo. He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly hyped to do a seriously good job and he didn’t let himself think further, diving into the choreography.

It took an hour before Yibo noticed that Xiao Zhan wasn’t watching whatever was on TV anymore. Instead, he was watching Yibo intently, amazement clear in his eyes. The dancer grinned smugly at the ghost, puffing his chest in pride, “Does Zhan-ge think I’m super cool?”

Xiao Zhan jumped a bit in surprise at being caught. His expression melted away to accommodate an excited smile, though, nodding, “Wang-laoshi is so amazing! He could even be a member of EXO. Definitely idol-worthy!” Yibo could tell that his tone was both genuine yet teasing, and it only made the human’s smile widen even more so.

“As good as your Sehun?” If Yibo were being honest, he had no idea where that came from but he did his best not to show anything in his face, making sure to seem like he’s just teasing.

The ghost blinked for a moment, obviously surprised at the question, then tilted his head, as though to think. He then placed a hand on his chest and shook his head, “No one can beat Sehun in my heart, Wang-laoshi.”

It took Yibo taking Zhan-ge’s Jiangou as hostage, using his hand as a faux-gun, to make the ghost admit that he was as good as Sehun. It filled Yibo’s chest with butterflies, its fluttering getting more and more intense the louder Xiao Zhan laughed at his ridiculousness.

That night, he continued dancing with Zhan-ge as his audience, teasing and cheering for him. He spent the next few hours laughing, actually enjoying. It was intoxicating.

He fell asleep exhausted but his heart felt like it was on fire. 

* * *

On some days though, triggering tidbits of Xiao Zhan’s memory didn’t lead for happy, excited giggles. On some days, it would lead for sad smiles, and obvious yearning. It led to fake laughs and quiet huffs.

Tonight was one of those nights.

“I won a bet and so Seungyoun had to treat me and Xuan-ge to hotpot. He’s really bad with spicy shit and so Xuan-ge prepared this sauce that was seriously painful. I forgot what it made up of but well, he said it was a famous combination for Chongqing eaters. And they’re known to seriously love spicy food, right?”

Yibo was too engrossed in his story that it took a while before he noticed Xiao Zhan had been quiet. Turning his head to look at the guy, he found the ghost staring at the ground, eyes very obviously sad. The young adult paused, worry filling his system, “Zhan-ge?”

The ghost jumped a bit, clutching a hand on his chest, “Ah. Haha, yeah? Sorry, did you say something more. I must’ve spaced out, Bo-di.”

Yibo frowned at this, eyebrows scrunching, “You okay?”

Xiao Zhan smiled sadly, “I don’t think I am. I’m feeling something. I just can’t pinpoint _what_.”

That night, he asked Yibo if he could be alone. At that, the young adult nodded, going straight to the bedroom so his Zhan-ge could have his space. Before he slept, he tried to remember his whole story, trying to find the specific detail that may have bothered his friend—words he hasn’t used before. As sleep slowly took over, he mentally noted to avoid the words “hotpot,” and “Chongqing.” 

The next day, Zhan-ge was back to normal, waking Yibo up with his ridiculous shouts. He was also grinning brightly and it was at that that Yibo realized how much he liked seeing his bright smile and wanting nothing more than to see that all the time.

* * *

“Say, you tell this story and it makes someone sad.”

Seungyoun raised a brow at him, “Was it a sad story?”

Yibo shook his head, slumping on his seat. It was lunch break in their studio, and somehow, he couldn’t get the recent incident out of his head, “It was just you, me, and Xuan-ge eating hotpot. And how we forced you to eat something really spicy.”

His best friend made a face at that, probably remembering the incident, but his expression suddenly shifts to something akin to surprise, “Wait. Who are you telling this story to?”

Ah fuck. He meant it to be a hypothetical thing. He didn’t think he’d slip this quickly. He huffed though, resorting to just telling the truth, “A good friend.” It was the best way to go for now considering he didn’t really want to explain further, “I told this story and he got sad. And I,” he tilted his head, “I’m just trying to figure out what made him sad so I don’t do it again.”

Seungyoun was looking at him curiously, but he must have sensed just how serious Yibo was about this so instead of resorting to teasing, he seemed to take a few seconds to think before answering, “Maybe he was reminded of something bad? Maybe he doesn’t like spicy food?”

YIbo thought for a moment, pouting. All the snacks he likes is spicy though. At that, he shook his head. Seungyoun hummed, “Or maybe he was reminded of something good. Maybe he misses it.”

The younger adult paused at that, something clicking in his head.

“Oh.”

* * *

Wang Yibo woke up then next day to silence. It was unsettling, disorienting. Like he wasn’t used to it. Usually, when his phone’s alarm blared it would be in unison with—

Yibo blinked, sitting up abruptly. He took a look at the wall clock, confused. Xiao Zhan wasn’t in his room. Xiao Zhan wasn’t screaming at him to get up. He wasn’t making his Jiangou float about to annoy Yibo. At this thought, his chest started to pound, panic filling his system. 

He got up from bed, going straight at the door then let out a relieved huff when he found Zhan-ge sitting on the couch. He had his knees pulled up to his chest, hugging them with his slim arms. His chin was tucked, a pout very visible on his face. His eyebrows were also all scrunched up, making Yibo’s heart drop. He quickly approached the guy, seriously worried.

“Ge?”

The ghost had jumped at his voice, blinking for a moment to process that Yibo was approaching him, “Oh shit, I forgot to wake you up.”

The human snorted at that, sitting beside him. He shook his head to show that he didn’t really mind, “I’m not a kid, ge. I can wake up on my own.” He then tilted his head to get a better look at the guy. He couldn’t help but frown when Zhan-ge started staring off to space again.

“Ge? Are you okay?”

There were a few seconds of silence before Xiao Zhan answered, voice soft and hesitant.

“I think I was from Chongqing.”

More silence.

All memories of the hotspot story just came rushing back to Yibo, along with what Seungyoun had told him when he asked for his advice. Like last time, all the dancer could let out was an, “Oh.”

Bless Xiao Zhan, he merely let out an amused huff. He was still staring front, though. “It’s been bothering me for days. This—This whole memory loss thing sometimes gets frustrating, y’know.” The exasperated laugh he let out made Yibo’s chest tighten. The ghost then suddenly looked at Yibo with a sad smile. He pointed at his chest, “I feel a lot of things, Wang Yibo. I thought, when I realized I was a ghost, I would stop feeling ‘cause that’s how the metaphor goes right? When you don’t feel anything, you feel dead. But I _don’t_ feel dead.”

He hugged his knees tighter and every part of Yibo’s being wanted to pull him into a hug if it were physically possible. The fact that he couldn’t made Yibo somewhat frustrated—that all he could do is listen.

“I know I don’t even have a heart but wow. It feels like there’s a hole in it. Like I’m missing something. And sometimes, I hear things or see things, and I remember how it _feels_ but I can’t point out _why_ I feel that way. Then I’d spend days trying to find it, trying to recall but I can’t find it and it’s _frustrating_.” He slumped further, “I remember shallow things. But when it comes to big, serious things, I can only recall little flashes and—”

He let out a groan, “I really think I’m from Chongqing _and_ I’m wasting your time, oh my god.” Xiao Zhan turned to Yibo with a look of panic, “Oh my god. Go, _go_. Take a shower, grab some breakfast, you can’t be late.”

“No, Zhan-ge—”

Xiao Zhan placed a hand just in front of Yibo’s mouth, as though covering it but not really, “Bo-di. It’s fine. We can talk about it later, yeah? Or we don’t have to.”

Wang Yibo shook his head at that, a new sense of determination filling his body, “No. We’ll talk.” He swallowed nervously, “We’ll talk, okay, ge?”

The ghost was staring at him and for a moment, Yibo thought he may have stepped onto boundaries he shouldn’t have stepped on, but Xiao Zhan’s expression suddenly melted into something warm, something slightly grateful. He smiled at Yibo softly, “Thank you.” Then he squared his shoulders, grin widening, “Now, get up, you lazy butt, you’ll be late!!!!”

In a blink, Wang Yibo was out of the apartment. In another, he was in front of his building. People would probably hit him for the fact that he rode his motorbike in a daze but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t get Zhan-ge’s face of out his head and his voice kept ringing in his ears. He looked sad and honestly, Yibo was wildly _sure_ he didn’t like seeing Xiao Zhan sad. His chest did this tinge and he felt as though he could drop everything just to be able to turn his frown around, y’know?

The dancer held a groan in as he entered the studio, biting the inside of his cheek. Xiao Zhan lived in Chongqing. As compared to all the other tidbits he remembered, Yibo could admit this was a huge one because this time, _this time_ , it was closer to knowing who Xiao Zhan could be.

The young adult frowned at this, wanting to hit himself at the realization. He’s been living with Xiao Zhan for _weeks_ now. They’ve talked non-stop about different things, but he couldn’t help but feel seriously selfish over the fact that Yibo really hasn’t taken the time to actually search him up. Instead, he’s been basking in his company, basking in the newfound feelings Xiao Zhan’s made him feel. And Xiao Zhan just lets him. They hang out, they talk, they laugh. But none of them have ever questioned as to why Wang Yibo sees him or why Xiao Zhan’s stuck in his place. Ever since he moved out from his ex’s place, Yibo’s felt light. Ever since he moved out from his ex’s place, Yibo’s actually _felt_. And he’s got Xiao Zhan to thank for that. Fuck.

“Hey? Rough morning?”

Wang Yibo yelped at the voice that cut through his though process. He didn’t realize he’s been standing in the lobby in a daze until his boss and best friend, Yixuan-ge, had tapped his shoulder. He was also looking at Yibo with a worried look that definitely did not help the already-growing guilt in his chest. At that, he nodded, lifting the side of his lip in an attempt to flash a smile. But considering Xuan-ge’s known him for years already, he still wasn’t convinced.

The older man let out a hum, tilting his head a bit. In a few seconds, he gave Yibo a warm smile, “Why don’t we have dinner together? We haven’t gotten to hang out for a while. Besides, you owe me a shitton of stories, didi.” He huffed, “I mean, I know some of them but that’s mostly ‘cause Seungyoun can’t keep his mouth shut but it’d be good to hear from you directly, yeah?”

Yibo blinked at that. They could have dinner, yeah. But that would mean he’d get home late and Xiao Zhan would usually be waiting for him.

_No. We’ll talk. We’ll talk, okay, ge?_

That’s what he promised but if he were to be honest. He wasn’t even sure what they should talk about. His mind was in shambles and his chest was suddenly filled with so many new unidentifiable feelings, it was almost frustrating. He needed to organize his thoughts, he needed to know what they needed to talk about, he needed to reevaluate what he should do.

“Didi?”

The younger adult looked back at his elder, huffing. Xuan-ge’s always been reliable. And if there was anyone he’d be willing to ask for advice from, it would be him. Even if it’s as ridiculous as wanting to do something for a ghost. He could probably just work and lie his way through his stories, right?

This is how Wang Yibo found himself in a small noodle place with Yixuan-ge after work. The meal started with silence, both of them munching quietly on their order. Yibo was having a hard time as to how to lay it out there, if he were being honest. He wasn’t sure how to go all “My ghost friend can’t remember most of his life and I think he’s sad he can’t remember and I really want to help him” without sounding absolutely ridiculous. He huffed at this thought, stuffing his cheeks with more noodles.

His thoughts were cut off by his ge’s snort. It made him look up to see Xuan-ge staring at him amusedly. He raised a brow in question at this, “What.”

“Your face. It’s going through a lot.”

Yibo felt his cheeks warm at that comment, but chose to ignore it, chewing more aggressively at his noodles. The older adult continued talking, “I don’t think you’ve ever been this expressive in a year, y’know? I’m honestly really glad.” He then took a calm bite of his noodles, like his statement wasn’t a huge deal. But it was. They both know what he was talking about.

He looked at his elder after a few seconds of silence, swallowing his food.

“I might have fucked myself up because of what happened,” He went for a chill tone, like it was a simple explanation. He smiled a bit, “And I kinda stopped feeling for a while. I’m sorry I closed myself off, ge. I wasn’t doing it intentionally.”

When Yibo called Seungyoun that night, it was actually the first time he’s really willingly kept in touch with a close friend. Not only did he suppress his feelings, he might have closed himself off without meaning to, in his unintentional journey of numbing his heart down. Even though he and his friends met each other every day in the studio, he doesn’t actually remember long interactions, everything going by a blur.

“But I think I’m better now. I know I’m better now. I, uh,” he smiled at his noodles, “I met someone.”

When he was met with silence, he chose to continue, “He helped me, I think. Without meaning to. But he made everything better and here I am now.” Memories of Xiao Zhan smiling and laughing flooded his head, along with all the times they hung out and watched and shouted at each other. It made him snort, shaking his head. He then looked up at his elder again whose eyes were wide at this news. Yibo couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face.

“You look ugly, ge.”

“You just told me you met someone out of nowhere, of course I’d be shocked!”

The younger adult cackled at this, “I’m allowed to have friends besides you and Seungyoun, ge. I’m not that lame.”

Yixuan blinked at him, raising a brow as he tilted his head, “Friend.”

Yibo nodded, “Yeah. He’s actually why I’m,” he scrunched his nose, “bothered.” Wow, he was really doing this. He was really going to get in touch with his heart then _express_ his feelings. Wow.

At this, the older’s expression melted into something more serious and worried, “Did anything happen?”

Now, how was he going to go about this. He thought for a moment, settling for the best non-lie he could go for, “He’s lost a lot of his memories.” Yixuan-ge gasps at this, “Oh shit? Was he in an accident? Amnesia?”

Yibo winced because well, he didn’t really know, “Uh, something like that.”

The older adult let out a disbelieving breath a that, eyebrow scrunched in concern, “Is he okay?”

The young dancer bit the inside of his cheek for a moment, organizing his thoughts, “I think he wants to remember his memories. And it’s starting to get frustrating that he can’t remember things. But I don’t know what I can do—what I _should_ do. But he’s helped me a shitton, I really wanna give back.” Wang Yibo was awful with words. This was one of the very few moments he’s let himself choose them carefully—to string up sentences that actually match up with his heart and mind. He knew he was still vague and he very obviously kept the details out, but he hoped his ge would get it, that he wouldn’t pry.

Yixuan-ge was silent for a few, before nodding in understanding. He smiled at Yibo warmly, somewhat encouragingly. It made the younger’s chest warm and settled, comforted by the look. And well, this was one of the things he’s always going to love about his best friend. Somehow, he always gets Yibo even though most of the time, Yibo has a hard time expressing himself. It felt nice having someone understand him.

“How about ask him what he wants first? From what I’ve heard, these are all assumptions, yeah? Or maybe he’s hinted but it’s good to talk about it before just jumping right into it, okay?”

Yibo nodded at this, mentally taking note.

“And then, if he does, then just be yourself whenever your heart settles on something.”

The younger adult blinked at his, fingers freezing. He sent his elder a confused look but only received a soft chuckle in return.

“Dive into it.”

Something flutters within Yibo’s chest. He burst out laughing at the feeling.

* * *

When Yibo got home that night, he found Xiao Zhan playing with his little Jiangou on the couch. The human sat beside him, smiling at the sight of Xiao Zhan giving a bit of space for him to sit on even though, technically, he wasn’t even taking up physical space.

It was quiet for a few moments before Yibo spoke up.

“Xiao Zhan. Do you want to know who you are?”

Xiao Zhan froze for a moment, both hands squeezing at Jiangou. He wasn’t looking at Yibo. Instead, he was staring at his cat, a troubled expression on his face. Slowly, a sad smile made its way into his face, “Wang Yibo. I’ve thought about it. What if I don’t remember things for a reason? What if—What if I’m actually a wandering spirit because whatever happened to me was bad? What if my past wasn’t good and I’m unknowingly dissatisfied with my life? What if I’m actually a resentful spirit?”

He said the last line with humor. He probably thought he could pull it off as a joke but the weight of everything he said was a lot, very wildly heavy. Concern burst through Wang Yibo’s chest at this thought process.

“But the little tidbits we found about you weren’t so bad. That’s a lot of what-ifs but we can’t really say if we don’t try.” He gave his ge a determined look, “Ge, I can help. If you want me to, I can help.”

Yibo heard Xiao Zhan’s breath hitch at his statement. For a moment, his eyes widened, and he looked somewhat vulnerable. In a blink though, it was gone, masked with an amused smile, “Wow, Bo-di. So serious. If you keep looking at me like that, the wrinkles between your eyebrows will become permanent.”

Silence again.

The television’s audio covered the whole room, masking the now-heavy ambiance the coated the area. Xiao Zhan was now back to staring at Jiangou and Yibo. Well, Yibo was still staring at Xiao Zhan. He wasn’t sure how to answer, if he were being honest. If he took his teasing bait, then they would definitely stray far from the topic at hand. But now that he thought of it, perhaps that was the point of the joke. Perhaps he really didn’t want to talk about it. But a part of Yibo was already wildly determined—ready to jump in whatever he can do to help his Zhan-ge, ready to jump in whatever he can do to make him smile, to stop every frustration.

And he hated how he still didn’t know what to say. Fuck, should he let this go for now? Maybe he wasn’t ready to talk about it. Why was Yibo so wildly horrible at heart-to-heart conversations? Well, okay. Maybe this really was the end of that and he won’t force unless Xiao Zhan really wants to talk about it.

With a curt nod, he turned his gaze from Xiao Zhan to the television. He opened his mouth, ready to tell him that they can drop the topic for tonight when all of a sudden, Xiao Zhan’s soft voice filled his ears.

“I was alone for a long time, Bo-di.”

Yibo paused, slowly turning his head back to look at his Zhan-ge.

“I think I survived this long because I don’t remember anything. There are so many holes in both my brain and my heart, and if I fill them up, won’t I just feel more strongly for them?” Yibo watched as Zhan-ge gave his Jiangou a little squeeze, a small smile playing at his face. “I felt alone through those times. But if I fill all the holes, won’t I just _yearn_ for them? Won’t I just end up knowing all them, fully aware that I can _never_ take anything back, then—” He huffed, “Then won’t I just feel more alone, Wang Yibo?”

Yibo looks at him, chest pounding loud in his ears.

His mouth was dry, a lump starting to form in his throat. He swallowed, trying to calm himself down. He got it. He understood what scared him. It was the case of seeing ignorance as bliss, it was the case of intentionally closing one’s eyes to avoid getting even more hurt. Yibo, throughout the year he’s experienced, knew the feeling all too well. And although it helped for a few, even though it helped numbing down all terrifying feelings, it also came with repercussions that lasted a long while.

And Xiao Zhan. Xiao Zhan was one of the most expressive people he’s ever met and he _not_ even human. He smiles when he’s happy, his eyebrows scrunch when he’s in distress. His bunny teeth appear when he feels a tiny bit affronted, and fuck. His eyes. _His eyes_. Anyone can see what he felt just looking through his eyes alone. Everyone used to say that about Yibo’s eyes and he never understood it—always thought it was impossible—but upon meeting this supernatural being, he could admit it.

He didn’t want all that to disappear. He didn’t want him to close off. He didn’t want sadness masked with smiles. Whatever he felt, he wanted his heart to fully embrace it. Even though it would hurt, even though it was scary, even though it’d be horrifying, because this time. This time—

“You won’t be alone.”

Xiao Zhan laughs helplessly.

Somehow, it sounded like _Bo-di, you’re ridiculous_.

It sounded like _That was way too cheesy, blegh._

It sounded like _Thank you._

* * *

The next few days turned out like normal. Xiao Zhan and Yibo went back to their usual routine, waking up with a floating Jiangou, and hanging out when the dancer gets back from work. They talk a lot more, though. Not about random things this time. Instead, Xiao Zhan lets himself talk about the big things he’s remembered.

“I mostly remember the food from Chongqing. I remember someone cooking for me and it would be the best assortment of food, Bo-di. Chaoshou, the noodles, Sichuan Chicken.”

Yibo would laugh at him, making a jab about how his stomach must be identical to his heart, and Xiao Zhan would cuss at him, making Jiangou fly towards Yibo’s head. But even through the teasing, Yibo was determined to ask more about his home. If he remembered how his house looked like ( _Not really, but I know there are flower bushes when I go out of the front door)_ , if he remembered who were in his house ( _I can clearly remember Jiangou now, she’s so cute and is definitely my princess.),_ and if he wanted to know more. At the last question, he’d always find Xiao Zhan looking at him with a glint of excitement in his eyes. It was a very obvious yes.

And he knew this was what Xuan-ge was talking about when he said Yibo usually dived into the shit his heart would lock on.

He tried the internet. Of course, he tried the internet. But listen, there was probably a thousand Xiao Zhan in the world and so obviously, he couldn’t possibly go through each and every account he found, right? Wrong. Every lunch break he would be skimming non-stop on his mobile, checking each and every account he found but he couldn’t really find Xiao Zhan’s face anywhere.

There were random interactions, some mentions, but no lead, because well, they weren’t _his_ Xiao Zhan. On those days, he’d go home with a Starbucks in his hand, going through the menu randomly to see if Xiao Zhan recognized it. They haven’t really discovered what his favorite order was yet but it was fun, like a game, like a little treat ( _Wang Yibo, stop buying the sweetest coffee, I know you hate it! I can see you force yourself to drink it. So dumb.)_ Little memories were still memories.

On days he feels Xiao Zhan seeming down considering they might not be making any progress and he would always end up in a stump at Yibo’s random personal questions, Wang Yibo would download random old school anime ( _WANG YIBO, HOW OLD DO YOU THINK I AM, MAZINGER Z IS TOO OLD)_ and they’d stay up the whole night watching. If it ended up with him drinking more Monster Energy drinks in the morning to keep his energy up to dance, it was fine. All he knew was he felt good.

It wasn’t until a week later when Wang Yibo finds a picture of a cat that resembled Xiao Zhan’s Jiangou toy online. He ended up choking on his lunch, making Seungyoun pat his back.

“Holy shit? Chill. You’ve been stuck on your phone these days, dude. Are you watching the stock market movement?”

On other days, he would make a jab at the stock market comment because _what?_ But today was a different day. His heart was pounding like _fuck_ , excitement filling his system, “DayToy.”

“What?”

_This_. This was probably his username. He could definitely check some posts. He could probably check the following. He could probably find his family members with this. Holy fuck, he couldn’t wait to tell Xiao Zhan. He was sure Seungyoun was still talking to him but his mind’s blurred him all out. If he were honest, his hand must have been shaking. Just one click on the fucking profile and he’ll get to see everything—

The profile had barely anything except for the cat picture.

So, no family photos or friend photos.

Yibo paused, chest heavy. That’s okay. There could still be more.

He clicked on the photo, praying to whatever supreme being out there to just give him _something_.

**Xuan Lu:** _Ah! ZhanZhan! Look at her! So big already!~_

Wang Yibo stood up from his seat, eyes wide. His chest was going crazy. But a good crazy. Holy fuck. A name. He got a name. Possibly a friend’s name because who else would call him ZhanZhan, right? Gradually, a smile made its way to his face.

He let out a loud-ass cheer in his workplace’s lunch area. Seungyoun had to physically sit him back down.

* * *

Yibo was a sweating, panting mess when he got back to his apartment. Xiao Zhan was in his usual spot on their couch when he found him. He actually threw Jiangou at him because he had a manic look on his face apparently, but mostly it was so he’d calm down.

“Bo-di, _breathe_. What happened???”

Xiao Zhan, with his sweet everything, had been looking at Yibo with a concerned look. His eyes were bright and round and all Yibo could think of was how excited he was to see him smile at his discovery.

Despite his throat being parched, Wang Yibo forced himself to speak, even when it came out as a pathetic-as-fuck croak, “I-I found a name.”

“What?”

Yibo then couldn’t hold off his smile any longer. He looked at Zhan-ge with probably the biggest, excited smile, he could actually feel his cheeks straining, “ _Ge._ I found your Jiangou online and—” He took a big gulp of air, “I found a name. I might have found a friend’s name. Possibly _your_ friend, _ZhanZhan.”_

Somehow, if ghosts could blush, Zhan-ge would probably be blushing right now. His eyes were wide and he looked at Yibo like he was flustered. The tired adult couldn’t help but pause at that, trying to process his look, “Oh. You like that? Me calling you _ZhanZhan?_ ” Mischief started to flood Yibo’s being, a million teasing lines were suddenly at the tip of his tongue—

Jiangou was being slammed at his face again, “ _Shut up_.” Zhan-ge then shook his head, looking at Yibo with a mix of embarrassment and seriousness, “Focus, Bo-di!”

At that, Yibo shook his head too, _focusing._ “Right, right.” He then pulled his mobile out, pulling up the profile in his phone, “Here. You—You only have one photo but. But a friend commented and maybe, _maybe_ if we skim through their things, we’ll find something about you. Or maybe you’ll remember when you see her or see things related to her.”

Xiao Zhan was staring at him and the room was suddenly silent except for Yibo’s harsh breathing. He was expecting his ge to be ecstatic so him being frozen was honestly worrying the human, “Uh. Ge? Did you hear? I said—”

“You haven’t checked it?”

Zhan-ge’s voice was soft, almost hesitant. It made Yibo pause for a moment, raising his brow in confusion, “Duh. We’ll do it together, I won’t just let you skim through it alone, ge.”

There was another few second of silence and Yibo was wondering if he’s made mistake doing this. Perhaps he was overstepping this whole get-Xiao-Zhan-to-remember-his-life thing. Shit. Okay, he can probably just _not_ look? He can scroll through the profile and look away? Would that work? That would work—

Yibo’s thoughts were cut off when he noticed Zhan-ge staring at him with a rare unreadable look. The young adult tilted his head in question, “Ge—”

“Thank you.”

Suddenly, his face melted into a smile. Yibo wasn’t sure if “bright” was the best way to describe it. Perhaps “warm” fit better. It made the adult want to claw at his chest with how hard it clenched at the sight of it. Before he could delve deeper into what he was feeling though, Xiao Zhan suddenly bounced on the balls of his feet, smiling wider—definitely more excited. He had urged the younger to sit down and show his mobile’s screen so they can look through it together as he sat close to Yibo. The human tried not to keep his heart rate steady at his nearness and concentrated better on his phone, clicking on whoever Xuan Lu was. And the two scrolled and scrolled until Xiao Zhan was left clutching at his chest.

* * *

“Lulu.”

Yibo looked at Xiao Zhan whose hands were still clutched at his chest. Although he was taller than Yibo, the fact that his sweater reached until his palms made him look small.

“She was my best friend in university. We—” He let out a giggle, “She’s like a sister to me. Ah Wang Yibo, I don’t remember a lot but there are images in my head and I’m so—” He suddenly cupped both of his cheeks, as though he can’t control his smile. It took everything in Yibo not to clutch at his own chest.

“I graduated from university, Bo-di. I’m an _artist_.” He said this with a tone of pride, “I was there when she confessed to her boyfriend. There’s a scene in my head where we’re standing in front of my studio’s building.” He suddenly perked up, “Bo-di! I had my own studio. _Wow!_ ” Then he let out a delighted laugh, eyes crinkling.

He said a lot more. He didn’t tell Yibo anything chronologically, though. He told little stories, random flashes. It wasn’t the type that went all “I met her here, we’ve been together since then” or so on and so forth—nah. His stories jumped from one random scene to another. It was all “ _We used to buy this heaven-sent pastry set in the morning, Bo-di, and we’d eat it before we started work,”_ and “ _She bought Jiangou a dress for one of her birthdays and her boyfriend bought a matching tiara. We threw my princess an actual princess party.”_

And although it wasn’t the complete memory package of his friend, Xiao Zhan seemed to think he had all the memories that mattered, and that was more than enough, apparently.

They spent the night drowning in stories—Xiao Zhan running his mouth at every memory that filled his head, while Yibo listened quietly. Wang Yibo wasn’t sure how he fell asleep on the couch though but the last thing that rung through his ears was his ge’s voice whispering a “thank you.” If he felt a light brush of coldness on his cheek, he might have forgotten it come morning.

* * *

The next day, Wang Yibo woke to a shitty crick in his neck. Xiao Zhan laughed at him until he left for work, as he grumbled about the ache. Seungyoun also laughed at him when he saw him trying to nurse it when he arrived the studio, but since he was still a good friend, he suggested Yibo should take a few to let it rest so as not to fuck it up further. 

“So! Since you’re not going to dance until afternoon, I demand you buy me and Xuan-ge some snacks!”

Yibo squinted at his friend, “Suddenly, my neck doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Seungyoun’s answering whine pushed a smile onto the younger’s face, though, making him roll his eyes. He stood up, nonetheless, double-checking if his wallet if it was in his pocket. When he heard his friend cheer triumphantly, he couldn’t help but chuckle at his ridiculousness as he went for the exit.

He was actually going to straight the convenience store when a little shop catches his eyes during his walk. It was a small bakery. Although it didn’t seem like a big establishment, it still looked fancy. All memories of the past day flooded back into Wang Yibo’s head, Xiao Zhan’s voice ringing loudly.

He smiled as his chest was doused with intoxicating warmth. He made a mental note to pass by before he went home to buy some pastries.

He spent the whole of dinner describing the taste of every pastry he bought to a fucking ghost. Xiao Zhan watched him a serious expression, eyes glinting. Everything was sweet. So, so sweet.

* * *

“Do you know Stefanie Sun?”

It was a weekend. They were both building a new Lego set the human bought. Yibo blinked at the ghost, slightly stunned at the sudden question, “What?”

“Is Stefanie Sun a real person?”

The two ended up checking Baidu.

She was.

Also, Xiao Zhan could sing.

Wang Yibo spent the whole day complimenting the _fuck_ outta the ghost. His Zhan-ge hit him with Jiangou multiple times until both of them were cackling, breathless. Stefanie Sun’s songs continued playing for the next three days.

* * *

“I can’t find anything online anymore. Were you a hermit? You seem too loud to be a hermit.”

Yibo felt Jiangou hit his cheek. He ignored it as he continued scrolling through his phone. If the human were to be honest, he was _shit_ with social media, so he had 0% rights to judge. He was saying this solely to rile his friend up. Besides, Xiao Zhan’s been ignoring him, too preoccupied with watching with watching Full Metal Alchemist on his laptop.

As he scrolled through his phone, he sees a promotion of a small gallery tribute for Van Gogh. Xiao Zhan was an artist, right?

“Ge? Do you know Van Gogh?”

Beside him, he saw a glimpse of the ghost freezing at the name. He suddenly turned to look at Yibo, eyes wide and excited, “I _adore_ Van Gogh.” He then paused for a few, lightly touching his head, “I used to go galleries before. Gosh.” He then let out a laugh, “Oh my god, I was a stereotypical art student, Bo-di.”

Yibo stared at the guy, a smile making its way to his face. When Xiao Zhan was back to focusing on the anime, he sent Yixuan-ge a quick message.

**me:** _u free saturday?_

**xg:** _what’s up :)_

**me:** _go out w me?_

“Since when have _you_ liked Van Gogh?”

Yibo clicked on his phone, taking a picture of the painting in front of him, “I don’t.”

“So why are we in a gallery taking a picture of each and every painting here?”

The young adult turned, directing his phone’s camera on the next painting, “Because I want to.”

He hears a huff beside him, “Is this for the same guy?”

Wang Yibo looked at his elder, blinking. He swallowed, looking away, focusing on the next painting, “Yeah. He likes art.”

At that, the two spent the next few minutes taking pictures until they were reprimanded.

It wasn’t until the two were walking to a restaurant when Yixuan-ge spoke again, voice amused, “Hey. Are you really doing all this to give back?”

He couldn’t answer him then. But when he got home and connected his mobile to the television to show all the pictures to Xiao Zhan—

Xiao Zhan who gasped excitedly at the paintings.

Xiao Zhan who was able to remember each and every story behind the paintings.

Xiao Zhan who grinned so brightly that night at the sight of the pieces, eyes forming little crescents for every rise of his cheeks.

Wang Yibo wasn’t so sure anymore.

* * *

Ever since the Lulu incident, random memories came back to Xiao Zhan. It seems that she was there with him for the majority of his life, so there were a lot of connections. Some days, Wang Yibo would wake up to random information. It ranged from shallow shit to deep ones. There was a point where Xiao Zhan was able to remember how his front porch looked like in Chongqing, some memories were just him and Jiangou playing on his bed.

It was nice. It was humanizing. It showed bits and pieces that the life Xiao Zhan led had some goodness in it.

Sometimes, though, he’d admit he missed his parents. He had vague memories of his friends, sometimes names coming up. But none of Xuan Lu’s images showed his parents. Both of them expected that much.

“I have a memory of telling Lulu I look like my mom.” He huffed at this, hugging his Jiangou. He and Yibo were sitting side by side, snug on the couch, “I’ll just imagine that we have basically the same face.”

Yibo couldn’t help but frown at this. He honestly had no idea how to find any detail about his parents. He can’t just go to Chongqing and ask around for the Xiao family. He couldn’t just search for all the Xiaos online. Wang Yibo may be determined, but he could only do so much and it also frustrated him.

“Aiyo, Wang Yibo. You shouldn’t beat yourself up. I’m just whining. You’re spoiling me too much, Bo-ge.”

Warmth spread through the adult’s body at the nickname. Surprisingly, it ranged at the lower part of his body. With wide eyes, Wang Yibo sat up straight abruptly, placing a bit of space between them. _That_. That was a very new feeling. The young adult took a deep breath, calming himself, before going back at the topic at hand, “Do you want to see your parents?”

He hears a hum, “Maybe. Sometimes I do. But it isn’t a necessity.” The ghost then shook his head, “So it’s okay. You don’t have to go that far for me.”

Wang Yibo wanted to say that he wanted to. But if he did, it was obvious the next question would be “why?” and he wasn’t sure how to answer it yet. So he left it at that, letting the ambiance lighten up, until the two were back to their own little living routine.

* * *

Shit went down on an unexpectedly normal day.

* * *

“You fucking dumbass, I told you it would fuck you up!”

Yibo was fuming at his best friend who, unsurprisingly, was just laughing at him.

“Dude, calm down! It’s a sprained wrist!”

He hit Seungyoun’s arm, still irritated, “I told you not to try the fucking move all of a sudden, Jesus fuck.” 

The two were walking in an impressive pace into the Emergency Room. Yibo had to take his dumbass-of-a-best-friend on one of the quickest rides to the hospital he’s ever ridden on legal road because the dumbass tried to do a move that he very obviously did carelessly, seeing as he crashed badly, fucking his wrist up.

Once they finally reached the receptionist, Yibo pushed Seungyoun to face the nurse, before dragging his feet towards the waiting area, feeling exhausted. He watched his friend talk to the nurse, making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid like run away because he was totally the type who’d do that—

_“ZhanZhan’s fighting hard, though.”_

Yibo froze. His eyes widened.

He feels a twinge at his chest.

Slowly, he turned his head towards the voice to find a doctor with two visitors, a gentle-looking lady and a worried-looking man. Wang Yibo didn’t know what was up but it was one of those moments where his gut was going crazy, every inch of his body suddenly itching to approach them. Without his control, he found himself standing up, subtly walking nearer. Which was ridiculous ‘cause there are probably a million ZhanZhan in the world but _fuck._

_“He’s been in a coma for two years, ma’am, and he hasn’t shown any signs of waking up at all—”_

_“My ZhanZhan is going to wake up, doctor, we can’t just—”_

_“Mama, calm down for now, okay? I’ll speak to him.”_

The man and the doctor suddenly went about their way, leaving the old woman in the waiting area. Yibo watched her face crumble, tears starting to run down her cheeks. At that, the man couldn’t help but approach her more so, his strides quickening. He then reached into his pocket to pull out a pack of tissue, handing it to the lady. He tried to keep a straight face, something that was close to a stranger being worried over a crying stranger, but his chest was going haywire. His skin was buzzing and he had to physically bite his lip to keep himself from going hysterical because this—

There wasn’t any guarantee yet.

The old lady was startled at his appearance at first, but as her eyes traveled to see the pack of tissue, she suddenly smiled. It was a small smile, both sides of her lips lifting, but the way her eyes turned to little crescents squeezed at Yibo’s heart to the point that he felt as though he couldn’t breathe. At that, he tried to control himself, taking a slow breath through his nose. His instinct was telling me whatever he was thinking was correct. With that, he took another breath, taking his shot, “Mrs. Xiao?”

The lady’s eyes widened in surprise, blinking as she continued to wipe at her cheeks, “Ah. I’m so sorry have we met?”

Wang Yibo’s surroundings suddenly blurred. As of that moment, there was no one else but him and the lady that could potentially be his friend’s mother. A part of him wanted to cry and scream as he tried to process the conversation he overheard. He shook his head at the woman, smiling slightly, “I-I’m sorry but,” there was a lump on his throat, “Xiao Zhan. Is your son.” He did his best to keep his voice steady.

The old woman gasped, “Oh! Oh dear. Are you a friend of ZhanZhan?”

Yibo was nodding before he could stop himself, but he couldn’t stop himself from staring. He could suddenly feel his eyes fill with tears, “Is—uh,” He took another deep breath, his chest pounding in his ears, “Can we uh, talk? About ZhanZhan? I—” He looked at the lady with a determined gaze, “I can’t help but overhear but we drifted apart years ago and well…” He couldn’t help but croak out, “A coma?”

Mrs. Xiao had looked at him with sympathetic eyes—pitiful. Like she was sad he had to find out this way.

But Wang Yibo didn’t think it was pitiful.

To everyone else’s eyes, it looked like he just found out his friend has just nearly died.

To other people, it must look like he found out his friend is in a nearly dying state.

But inside, he was reeling.

Tears were threatening to fall from his eyes not from grief, but from a mix of shock and—

“He’s alive.”

The lady’s eyes widened at his statement. It was probably surprising, yeah. Usually people would react pitifully, to someone whose son is in a coma but—

“H-He’s alive.”

Wang Yibo’s legs were starting to feel like jelly. A part of him wanted to run back to his apartment. To scream excitedly at Xiao Zhan. To tell him that he had a living, breathing, fucking body, and that his pretty-as-fuck ass wasn’t dead, and that Wang Yibo was totally going to hit him when he can physically hit him for making him believe he _was_ dead. He—

“Young man?” Yibo blinked, mind focusing back of Mrs. Xiao. She was looking at him worriedly, eyes bright, eyebrows scrunched, and he had to hold in a snort at the thought that he really did look like her. It was amazing. It was beautiful. So beautiful.

“S-Sorry. It’s just a lot to take in. Last time we talked, he seemed perfectly alright.”

Last time they talked was a few hours ago. They were having a banter over some Korean Drama they recently binged-watched. Xiao Zhan was all for the first lead guy, Wang Yibo was for the second lead. They agreed to continue arguing once Yibo went home.

“Oh. I’m so sorry. It’s actually a really long story. He got into a car accident. Middle of the night—” She let out a pained hiccup, “H-He’s been in a coma since. W-We’ve,” Tears started streaming down her face and Yibo very quickly handed the pack of tissue once more.

“Are you really okay with saying all these?”

“Of course, of course. You deserve to know. You were close, weren’t you?”

Yibo bit his tongue to keep himself from saying any retort. He, instead, nodded. She smiled once more and _gosh_ , he really could see the resemblance. He couldn’t wait to tell Zhan-ge. His mom was absolutely beautiful, he knew where he got his beauty from now. He could already imagine his embarrassed squawking, his loud cussing—

“…Remove him from his lifeline.”

The dancer blinked, his mind halting.

“E-Excuse me, what? I didn’t catch that.”

“The doctor called us in today to talk about his lifeline. It’s been two years and he hasn’t shown any sign of gaining consciousness anymore.”

Wang Yibo’s body felt as though it was doused with ice-cold water.

_No._

He let out a small nervous laugh, “Ah, but ZhanZhan’s stubborn. He’ll definitely wake up.”

The crinkle in the lady’s eyes was a small reward, easing Yibo’s chest a bit, “Exactly. That’s what I said. But see, we’ve been through family counseling.” She wiped at her tears, “And well, financially speaking, it’s been difficult.”

_No, no, no._

Suddenly, a man approached them, standing beside the crying lady. His face was gruff, visibly exhausted. He—fuck. It’s Zhan-ge’s dad. He also resembled bits and pieces of Xiao Zhan and it _hurt_. It actually hurt thinking about it. He got his height, his _fucking nose_. But no, Wang Yibo was _not_ going to be a creep. He gave the elder man a respectful nod as a greeting. It was returned with the same gesture.

Mrs. Xiao was startled at her husband’s reappearance but soon calmed when he placed both hands on her shoulders. She opened her mouth and raised a hand, looking ready to introduce Yibo’s presence when all of a sudden, the man had let out a huff, eyeing at his wife with an apologetic look.

“We should let go, mama.”

There was silence.

The background noise seemed to get louder.

And louder.

Something inside Wang Yibo snaps.

In a blink, he was screaming, he was begging.

In another, he was being pulled back by people. He heard Seungyoun. He heard a lot more. But he couldn’t really make out what they were saying.

In the last, he was back in front of his apartment’s door, staring at the floor, clothes all ruffled, hair all ruffled, heart all ruffled.

His chest was heavy. It was so, so heavy. The lump in his throat ached so much. Very slowly, he unlocked the front door to find Xiao Zhan watching the TV. It was usually a warm sight, something he’s learned to hold close to his heart. Fuck. It seemed like a normal day. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t. Wang Yibo wanted to scream. Imagine finding out a ghost you’ve been living with has been alive all along to find out he’d be gone again in a blink. _Fuck_.

Upon hearing the front door open, the ghost turns his head towards him, ready to greet, but Yibo was met with silence. Instead, he found Zhan-ge approaching him, eyes wide with concern, eyebrows scrunched in worry. It made only made Yibo’s chest heavier. And heavier.

“Bo-di?”

At the sound of his voice, Yibo broke, falling on his knees. He had both hands covering his eyes now, palms digging hard.

“ _Ge._ ”

Living with Xiao Zhan, Wang Yibo has learned how his presence felt despite not having a physical body. Whenever he was close, it felt like a gentle breeze. It was also cold, the type that usually gave him gooseflesh. It was how he knew he was close and with how his shoulder was feeling very chilly, Xiao Zhan must be touching him at that moment.

“Bo-di?” It was a careful whisper, “What’s wrong? Y-You feel—”

Yibo let out a croak, “You’re alive.”

There were a few seconds of silence before Wang Yibo hears a snort, “Aiya, are you joking with me right now? You’re even—”

“Xiao Zhan.” Wang Yibo chose to look up now, voice serious, “You’re alive.”

* * *

“You met my mom?”

If Wang Yibo were being honest, he was expecting Xiao Zhan to be stunned. Well, he was actually, for a few seconds, but his expression quickly melted into one that was soft, one that was warm. He looked down at Yibo with such understanding eyes and—and somehow, Yibo wanted to scream. But he kept it in. Instead, he let himself stand up when the ghost had urged him to. He let the beautiful man lead him to the bathroom to shower, to change into comfortable clothes. He followed when Xiao Zhan asked him to make himself some tea to calm down.

Because somehow, Xiao Zhan wasn’t freaking out about this. Somehow, he was dealing with this better than Wang Yibo. _Somehow_ , even through this, he was helping Wang Yibo, and fuck. _Fuck_. Yibo wanted to fucking cry. Especially with the way he was watching Yibo patiently, bright eyes full of composure.

“I did.” The human’s throat was fucked. He wasn’t sure how much he screamed earlier that day but he was feeling it now, “She—” He took a small intake of breath, “You smiled the same. Your eyes do the—the little, y’know.” And Xiao Zhan _must_ know because he just did it. The way his eyes turn to little crescents.

Yibo nodded, “Yeah, that.”

“And my dad?”

The younger adult bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep himself from replaying what his dad had said a while ago so as to keep himself chill, “I get why your legs are so long now.”

“You checked my dad’s legs out?”

Yibo sputtered, “N-No—” He let out a frustrated breath, rubbing at his face, “Just—” He then looked at Xiao Zhan seriously. He was tense and heavy all over, he was itching to run back to the fucking hospital, his chest was being played around by a multitude of emotions, it was almost overwhelming, but Xiao Zhan. Xiao Zhan was silent. Was smiling. Was _joking._

“Zhan-ge, you’re alive.” He had said this as a whisper, “You’re _alive._ Why—Why aren’t—” He then messed at his hair. He didn’t understand why he was the only one freaking out, why—

Suddenly, Jiangou was hitting his nose again. Wang Yibo scrunched his nose in pain, sending a glare at the ghost, “Hey, what the fuck—”

“Calm down first, okay?”

Zhan-ge was looking at him with such a patient look. Yibo’s chest was burning, it really was, but the way he was looking at Yibo also made him want to just calm down. Made him want to be more rational. He hasn’t felt this intensely in so long—this mad, this frustrated, this helpless. And even though Xiao Zhan may have been the cause, he’s also the one pacifying it, keeping him grounded.

At that, he took a deep breath. He gave the ghost a helpless look, slowly starting to feel defeated. He slumped on his seat, shoulders sagging. God, his heart was going through so much right now. The things Xiao Zhan makes him feel, really.

“Good. Now, tell me.”

And Yibo did. He told him about the accident, the coma, his mom crying, his dad’s whisper. He talked about the lifeline, he talked about him snapping, he talked about getting kicked out of the hospital. He’s actually probably banned from the hospital.

Xiao Zhan had actually giggled at the part where he got kicked out. But there was something in his eyes, it looked pained, it looked tired. And Yibo hated it. Wanted it gone. At this, multiple things made its way into the adult’s head. He could probably go back to the hospital, he could probably beg to give it a little more time. He could probably tell them that there was still a chance to do so. And if it’s finance, he could probably help too.

He looked at Xiao Zhan with a new sense of determination, “I can probably still stop it, though, ge. I just need to find someone who could help me. I’m sure I have old schoolmates who are doctors now—”

“Bo-di.”

Yibo paused, blinking. He raised his brows in question. The ghost merely shook his head, biting his lower lip. Then, like a while ago, he smiled. He’s been smiling a lot.

“Why would you go so far as to do that, dummie?”

The adult couldn’t hide his expression, looking at Xiao Zhan incredulously, because who the fuck asks that, “What do you mean??? Of course, I’d do it.”

Suddenly, the stuffed cat was hitting his cheek again, making him cuss and glare at the cat, “Why the fuck do you keep doing that?”

“Because you’re being dumb.”

“ _I’m_ being _dumb???”_

Xiao Zhan merely huffed, shaking his head, “Wang Yibo. It’s okay now, alright?” He looked at him with such sympathetic eyes, it honestly just made the human confused, “What’s okay?”

“I know how you were when your first moved in, okay? I know you were going through a shit time, and well, I guess I helped eased some pain and tension, right?”

Yibo blinked.

“I told you I can somehow feel what you feel so long as a hover close enough. And I just—I know you’ve been feeling better. You,” he took a deep breath, “You don’t have to feel indebted to me, Bo-di. You’ve done enough. Too much, even. I’m sorry for taking advantage of you, for pushing you to do things you didn’t even have to do.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“I’m saying, it’s okay now. I think I’m satisfied now.”

Silence.

Yibo was staring at the ghost, his heart going through a fucking whirlwind. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was feeling, it was probably a wild mix of multiple things—confusion, frustration, shock? There were more. He was feeling slightly offended that this was what Xiao Zhan thought was the reason as to why he was doing it. He knew he was feeling petty but even his own voice was ringing in his head when he was talking to Yixuan-ge.

_I really wanna give back_.

But the more his voice played in his head, the more desperate he felt because somehow, _somehow_ , it didn’t feel real anymore. Maybe that’s what he used to feel? Maybe that’s what he thought he felt, but as he looked back through his and Xiao Zhan’s experience these past weeks, it might not. It just—It’s—

He can’t pinpoint out what. He wasn’t sure what. All he knew was he wanted to do it. He wanted him to smile. He wanted to hear his giggles. He loved to see the bright and excited glint in his eyes. He loved—

Wang Yibo blinked.

Oh.

_Oh._

“Ge. That’s—” He let out a shuddering breath, trying to calm the pounding in his chest, “That’s not why I’m doing it. That’s not why I’m doing all _this.”_

If the human were being honest, he was hoping to see a shocked look, a surprised look, maybe even a confused look. But that’s not what he got. What he got was something sad, something dim, something disappointed. And it was at that moment that Wang Yibo realized his ge probably knew how he was feeling way before he realized it.

“Wang Yibo, I’m good as dead. I—I’m probably already dead.”

“But—”

“Two years, Bo-di. I’m probably just lingering ‘cause I’ve been kept alive. Besides, doesn’t it say a lot that I’m a ghost trapped in my own house already? It makes sense now, doesn’t it? Why I haven’t moved on.”

_Fuck_.

A part of him wanted to argue. But Xiao Zhan was also looking at him so determinedly despite seeming sad about that reality. He looked like he’s already made up his mind and although Yibo can tell him there could still be a chance, no one can actually know. And Yibo wasn’t the type to lie at all. Besides, this wasn’t about Yibo. It was about Xiao Zhan. And Xiao Zhan, despite all the possible false hope anyone can throw at him, seems to know what’s probable out of anyone.

The living room was silent once more. They were both just staring at each other. The human had no idea what to say. There were so many things going through his head and his heart but even when he opened his mouth, no words would come out. What can he say, anyway? He’ll run back to the hospital? Beg to stop again? No one knew how he’d get his fucking ghost back to his body. Unless he searched how? Maybe—

“Bo-di. Let’s go to bed.”

Wang Yibo’s brain halts, “What?”

Xiao Zhan smiled at him warmly. He obviously can’t refuse.

* * *

“How’d they look? Did they look healthy at least?”

Xiao Zhan was lying down beside him on his bed that night. Which was new. Usually, when Yibo had to go to sleep, the ghost would stay in the living room with Jiangou considering he couldn’t sleep anyway. He could remember the first time they lied down side by side, remembered liking the newness. This was similar, except Yibo’s chest felt loud. A part of him was worried his friend might notice but when he turned to look at him, he found Xiao Zhan’s eyes closed. He looked absolutely serene, absolutely beautiful.

“They looked tired.”

A low hum, “Well, of course they’d be tired. Their son’s being a pain in the ass, tsk.”

The young adult glared at him, “Oi—”

“Kidding. I was kidding, Bo-di.” The pretty ghost then opened his eyes, slowly turning his head to face Yibo, the sides of his eyes crinkling, “I can kind of remember them. Vague, but it’s enough. I think I’m just glad they’re still up and at ‘em, y’know?” He then grinned, “And family counseling, right? That’s good. I’m glad.”

Yibo felt himself pout. If he hadn’t overreacted in the hospital, he could’ve just had a conversation about his Zhan-ge with his mom if that was what satisfied him. He wanted to flick his past self, wishing he could’ve just sat down and took a moment to talk than fighting and begging. He was starting to see what Xiao Zhan was saying, how in these instances, perhaps there really wasn’t anything he can do. Which sucks. ‘Cause he didn’t like that. He wasn’t the type to easily drop things he knew he hasn’t exerted his full force for.

“Ge? You sure you don’t want to—”

Jiangou connects with his nose painfully. Yelping, he covered his nose, glaring this time at the cat, “When I finally find a way to hit you back, I’m seriously hitting you.”

His ears were suddenly filled with his Zhan-ge’s cackle. He really does love hearing it. Warmth always spread through his body, reaching his fingertips, whenever he heard it. It always made his chest feel as though it was doused with sparklers, and the longer they stayed together, the sparks grew. Swallowing, he blinked up, taking in Xiao Zhan’s face once more. He was staring back at Yibo. His eyes were still as bright as ever, and for some reason, he looked much softer the usual. It made the dancer want to lean closer, until they were lying on their sides, face-to-face, so he did—with Jiangou in between them.

Something unreadable flashes in Zhan-ge’s face, but was quickly replaced with a sad smile. Man, Yibo’s been making him smile that way so much today. This day’s been long, hasn’t it? He’ll just make it up tomorrow. If he can’t do anything extravagant, he’ll make it up to him so long as he can. He’ll make sure he gains the most wonderful memories. Yibo will really do anything for him.

“Wang Yibo, close your eyes.”

He did.

“I’m sorry all this happened. Don’t close yourself off anymore, okay, you brat?”

_What?_

There was no movement for a few seconds until suddenly, Yibo felt Jiangou’s snout being pressed lightly onto his lips.

The adult’s eyes opened in surprise, but when he opened his mouth to ask, Zhan-ge was pressing his index finger on his lips, as though to tell him to shush—to keep quiet. All words died down, getting caught up in the younger’s throat.

“Thank you.”

Yibo’s eyes widened, suddenly feeling cold.

Somehow, he didn’t like where this was going.

“Sleep.”

A strong sense of drowsiness swept through his body.

_No._

Darkness gradually took over.

“…ve you, Wang Yibo.”

Ah.

_Fuck._

He was definitely going to punch Seungyoun for fucking up his wrist.

* * *

Wang Yibo woke up to silence the next day.

* * *

And the next.

* * *

And the next.

* * *

Wang Yibo opened his eyes, took a few moments to stare at the ceiling, then let out a deep breath. He let himself cry—he let his chest drown in grief.

* * *

“So, why are we playing Legos on your coffee table on a fine Friday night when we could be drinking out?”

Yibo spread out the model instructions, so his two best friends could see it too. Biting his lip, he started preparing the pieces on the table as well. He couldn’t help but smile at the sense of familiarity at spreading the little toys around. At this point, Zhan-ge would be trying to make some pieces float just to rile Yibo up.

“I’m going to have to agree with Seungyoun on this, didi. When you messaged us, I thought you wanted to hang out and drink or something considering you’ve been bummed out lately.”

The youngest merely huffed amusedly at that. Although his two elders were trying to be chill about this, they were obviously worried. He smiled at the two, shrugging, “Well, the last time I was heartbroken, I closed myself off and fucked up my heart by myself.” He grabbed a piece and started pushing it onto the base, “Someone told me I shouldn’t close myself off anymore and this makes me happy. So, well, this is me getting in touch with my feelings, I guess.” Which was true. He may have started out despising this considered he used it as a coping. But as his time with Xiao Zhan progressed, every memory’s he’s attached to his things have obviously been re-written. This time, he was back to loving the things he did. And although it hurt, it still felt sweet and warm doing them. He wanted to hold long onto those memories.

He noticed the two freeze at what he said, both of their expressions a mix of shock and worry. It was Seungyoun who spoke first, alarm in his voice.

“What did the bitch do???”

Yibo looked at him, scrunching his nose, “Oh gross, no, not her.”

“Is it Van Gogh guy?”

Seungyoun abruptly turned his head to looked at Yixuan-ge, “Van Gogh guy???” Then back at Yibo, “You got a boyfriend without telling me? _Bro—_ ”

“He’s passed over.”

Silence.

“I fell in love with him as a ghost haunting my house. I’m not sure how I did but I did.”

Still silence. As it stretched, he couldn’t help but let out a loud snort, which then turned into maniacal cackling because he really couldn’t not laugh at their expressions. When his two best friends started sputtering, he laughed even more so. He hasn’t laughed in a while and it felt good that he was able to throw that out in the open.

When the two finally calmed down, they ordered some food and actually indulged Yibo in his pursuit to finish the model. His chest was full. It was warm. It felt nice. He couldn’t help but think if Zhan-ge was here, he’d be proud of him.

They stayed over that night.

Yibo slept well.

* * *

Wang Yibo spent the next few weeks living quietly. He’s settling in with everything which was good.

The next month, his apartment’s seller had called him saying the original owner had asked if the contract could be broken. Apparently, it was going to be used. Wang Yibo didn’t really think much about it, and merely agreed. He had asked Yixuan-ge if he could stay for a few weeks just until he could find a new apartment.

“They really just broke the contract just like that?”

“Mn.”

“And you’re letting them?”

“Mn.”

Yibo tried thinking about it, as to why they’d do it. But all he could think of was Mrs. Xiao and Mr. Xiao, probably just looking for a place to stay in while they were in the city. Their son’s old furnished apartment was definitely the best to go with. With that, it also meant he had to pack quick because he wasn’t sure how he could show his face to the two supposedly-strangers he freaked out in the hospital.

Yixuan-ge was accompanying him as he packed so they could go straight to his place.

As Yibo finally zipped up his suitcase, he let out a sigh. The bedroom was still a mess. He had a lot more to pack but this was good for now. He had asked the tenant if he could get his things on separate days this week because well, he’s been doing a lot in the studio and taking up more jobs has actually been fun. Fortunately, enough, he was approved of the week to move out.

“Alright. This is good for now, I—” On the corner of his eyes, he sees Jiangou by the side table. Slowly, he made his way towards her. Xuan-ge must have noticed him staring considering he hears a light huff, “That’s cute. Where’d you get her?”

The younger adult felt the side of his lips lift, sending the cat a fond look, “She lives here. Her name’s Jiangou.” _She’s originally a munchkin cat and the most fabulous cat princess to ever breathe._

“Didi?”

“Mmh?”

“You weren’t lying, were you? About the guy passing away?”

Yibo nodded, taking ahold of Jiangou, “Yeah. And all the other bits.”

Yixuan eyed the cat, tilting his head, “Mmh. I think I believe you. Seungyoun also told me about the hospital incident and somehow, he also believes you.”

It was quiet for a moment. Wang Yibo could only nod, “Thanks.”

At that, the elder approached him, gave his shoulder a quick pat, then went for Yibo’s suitcase. He made his way towards the bedroom door, smiling at his junior, “I’ll go bring this to my car. You can go pack up the rest, I can go back in a few.”

There was a very obvious unspoken _You can go say goodbye to the house_ because Yixuan-ge was dramatic that way. Yibo acknowledged him with a nose-scrunch before rolling his eyes. His ge merely chuckled before going on his way, leaving Yibo with Jiangou. Taking her with him, he decided to take one last stroll through the place.

The apartment was quiet. It’s been a long while since Zhan-ge disappeared but he still couldn’t help but not be used to the quiet ambiance. The television was usually on. Xiao Zhan’s voice would usually be filling every corner. EXO and Stefanie Sun would be bursting through the speakers.

But unlike the first day he moved, it didn’t feel empty. He didn’t feel empty.

Every corner of the apartment made his heart full. The sight of the kitchen, the whiteboard on the fridge, the curtains, the lamps, the couch. Especially the couch.

Huffing, Yibo walked his way towards it. He stared at it for a few moments before plopping down, laying Jiangou on his chest. He took a deep breath, the scent of lavender filling his nose, before closing his eyes. He’ll let himself indulge once more. One last time. Then he’ll leave.

“Zhan-ge.”

No response.

“Zhan-ge, if you can hear me, g-give me a sign.”

Still no response. Wang Yibo chuckled to himself at this, eyes still closed. He was being ridiculous. This was ridiculous. But he didn’t care. He was all alone anyway. Surely Jiangou will keep everything a secret.

“Zhan-ge,” He took a deep breath, “You always keep saying ‘Thank you’ and I just realized I never got to say it back. People are probably going to say I’m delusional for saying this but well,” He took another deep breath, “For someone dead, I don’t know how you made me feel alive, but you did.”

He squeezed Jiangou, keeping his eyes closed still.

“Y-You probably can’t hear shit. But you suck for saying that before disappearing, by the way. Seriously. Also, I don't know how you made me sleep, you definitely forgot to tell me ghosts had superpowers."

He let out a sigh, "You should’ve at least let me say it back.”

Silence.

He pouted, “But I mean. Ah _fuck_. I don’t know. I don’t even know why I’m talking to your house right now. Anyways, I’m leaving soon. Before your parents see me and I give them heart attacks. _Jeez_.”

Fuck, okay.

He should go.

With that, he slowly opened his eyes to—

To find bright eyes staring back down at him. It was a familiar sight—soft black hair, the soft sweater, the soft-looking cheeks. Yibo stared up at him, feeling ridiculous. This is it. He’s reached maximum level of being delusional. But he didn’t hate it. His heart seemed delighted, actually. He’ll let every logical reasoning slip from his brain right now and let himself enjoy this experience.

Slowly, he let go of Jiangou, lifting one hand. Last time Zhan-ge found him this way, all Yibo wanted to do was to cup his cheek just to see if his cheeks were as soft as it looked. Even though he had been barely awake when it happened, the memory was clear in his head. It was almost pathetic that his feelings for those cheeks haven’t changed at all.

Fingers twitching, he inched his hand nearer until his palm connects with the most beautiful man’s face. And wow. _Wow_. It _was_ soft and so, so warm. Yibo let his thumb stroke at it, absorbing the feeling.

Then his brain reboots.

Abruptly sitting up, Yibo accidentally hits his forehead against Zhan-ge’s unusually solid ghost.

“ _WHAT THE FUCK.”_

“I should be saying that.”

Wang Yibo looked at the man staring at him with a pained expression, rubbing at his forehead.

“ _How the fuck are you doing that???”_

Suddenly, the familiar cackle he’s learned to love filled his ears, “ _That’s_ what you’re asking???”

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to ask??? Humans past through ghosts!”

The cackling just got louder, and suddenly, this man—this _supposed Zhan-ge_ —was jumping on the couch on top of Yibo, pushing Jiangou to fall on the floor. And Yibo—Yibo’s brain had to process the weight of him, the warmth of him, the sound of him, the _scent_ of him. And fuck, he smells like lavender and soap and—

“Wang Yibo, you’re so dumb.”

Wang Yibo had to process the feeling of his warm breath on his neck, the feel of his hair brushing against the side of his face, the feel of long arms wrapping around him. Yibo’s chest was going haywire and his brain was running a thousand miles per minute trying to figure the fuck out what was happening. But against his chest, he could also feel the man’s heart pounding, and it was awfully distracting.

For a moment, Yibo was convincing himself he’s dreaming. But when Zhan-ge suddenly squeezed him tighter, burying his face further into the crook of his neck, he couldn’t help but desperately wish this was reality. That he was currently hugging Zhan-ge. That he could feel his heartbeat against his.

“Bo-di.”

His voice was muffled, but Yibo thought it was still beautiful.

“I remember.”

And Yibo. Yibo’s throat tightened, butterflies burst through his chest, and fuck. If this really were a dream, then he never wants to wake up from it—

An awkward cough was heard, making the two men yelp in surprise. Yibo quickly turned to see where the sound came from to find two familiar elderly couple staring at him with wide eyes just by the couch. He—

“Um, ZhanZhan?”

Yibo paused. Blinking, he turned his head back to look at the man currently on top of him.

“Wait, what the fu—"

* * *

“I’m sorry you always find me in very questionable instances when it comes to your son.”

He hears a snort. He forced himself to stay bowed in front of the two elders, trying not to glare at a very-alive Zhan-ge standing beside his parents.

“Ah, Wang Yibo, was it? Please, please, lift your head, son.” It was Mrs. Xiao. Her voice was soft. He could remember that much. “Besides, it was _us_ who entered without checking if anyone was in. Also, ZhanZhan tackled you to the couch, I believe we should be the ones sorry.”

He shook his head, looking up, “I-I-It’s okay. Not like I minded.” He then paused, cheeks heating, “I-I mean, i-it was nice.” Okay, holy fuck, he’d kill to be a ghost right now. He opened his mouth again, to correct his embarrassment, when all of a sudden, alive-Zhan-ge spoke up, amusement in his tone.

“Ma, Pa? Is it okay if you leave me and Yibo to talk in private?”

The guy didn’t even wait for his parents to answer, though. Before Yibo could even say anything, he feels a tug on his wrist and he’s being pulled towards the bedroom. He hears a quick, “Just stay there!” then the door clicks.

In a blink, he’s face-to-face with a very alive Zhan-ge. He blinked some more, taking in the man’s appearance in front of him. His hair, his eyes, his smile, his bunny teeth, the mole below his lip. Actually, now that he was looking at him, he had more color to him, and his cheeks were fuller. He looked healthy—fuck. He was glowing. And it was unfair, just how much more breath-taking he looked.

Wang Yibo couldn’t take his eyes off him. There were so many things he wanted to do, now that he had the privilege to do so. He wanted to pull him close, wanted to pinch his cheeks, wanted to—

Oh. Wait, no. He knew what he wanted to do.

The younger adult lifted his hand slowly. He watched as Xiao Zhan’s eyes followed the movement.

Then he hit his arm.

Again.

And again.

To the point that Xiao Zhan started hitting back through his little yelps of “ouch!”

“Don’t hit back! You hit me with Jiangou so many times, this is payback for all those times!”

Was he acting like a 9-year-old??? Why, yes, he was. But you know what, he didn’t care. All he knew was that he could touch Xiao Zhan now. And that Xiao Zhan was alive. And that his hand was actually connecting with his arm. And that Xiao Zhan was alive. And that his sweater was so soft, and the sound of his laugh was so soft, and the way his eyes crinkled was so soft.

And—

He couldn’t keep his voice from croaking, his chest tightening as the magnitude of literally _everything_ was sinking in him.

And—

“ _You’re alive._ ”

Warm hands were suddenly cupping both his cheeks. And _fuck_ , even his palms were soft. This man. Was this man even real? Maybe Yibo was just dreaming and this was a really good-as-fuck dream. Maybe—

The hold on his cheeks suddenly tightened, making his trail of thought disappear. Suddenly all he could think of was how Xiao Zhan’s face was right in front of his. And Xiao Zhan. Xiao Zhan honestly looked as in awe as he did, smiling dopily at him. At that, Yibo just snaps, and his chest felt as though it was bursting—gooey warmth spread through his entire being.

The itching in his fingers he usually felt when Xiao Zhan was near was back in full force, and he couldn’t really do anything else but give in to his desires. Chest pounding like crazy, he stepped close, arms extending to slowly wrap around the man’s waist. He had to steady his breathing as he slowly pulled Zhan-ge closer, until Zhan-ge had no choice but to wrap his slim arms around his neck, fingers settling at the little hairs of the back of his neck.

When his nose finally touches Xiao Zhan’s neck, and when both their chests were flushed against each other, Wang Yibo closed his eyes.

“Ge. Am I dreaming?”

He felt Zhan-ge playing with his hair, running his fingers through it.

“If it helps, that night, I thought ghost-me was moving on as well, okay. I got most of my memories back. I was satisfied knowing my parents were okay. I got to confess and lie in bed with you. I meant it when I said I was satisfied, Bo-di.” He hears a soft amused chuckle. It only made Yibo hug the man tighter. “Imagine my surprise to wake up in the hospital.”

“That was an asshole move, ge, you totally broke my heart for a moment—Wait.” Yibo pulled back slightly to give his ge an offended look, “You’ve been alive for more than a month?”

Xiao Zhan merely snorted at him, though, pulling his head back close to him, his nose getting buried into his neck, his scent filling his everything. Yibo didn’t struggle which would mean he was totally fine with it, “My parents brought me back home, dummie. I _was_ in a coma for two years. They babied me for weeks. I'm _29_ , by the way! An old man! Now, my cheeks are all full. But I decided to go back here, I've caused them too much trouble already.” Although the younger adult couldn’t see him, he could totally imagine the pout he was most probably wearing.

“Aw. Is Zhan-ge sad no one’s going to spoil him anymore?” He was ready to bring out more teasing lines, mischief coming out, when all of a sudden, his ge scrapes in nails lightly at the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Hot breath suddenly hits his ear, “Ah, but I have you, don’t I, Bo-ge?”

Yibo pulled back, ignoring the heat coating his cheeks and travelling down his lower body. He glared at the pretty man for a few seconds before Zhan-ge burst into giggles. Instead of showing his embarrassment, he decided to retaliate. He leaned in close, smirking, “Does that mean you’re staying with me, _ZhanZhan?_ ” He feels a hit on his upper back when he pulled back once more, making him laugh. Also, Xiao Zhan’s cheeks were red and somehow, _somehow_ , Yibo adored the sight of it.

For a moment, they were just staring at each other, but Yibo was sure as fuck he wasn’t the only one feeling the undeniable pull between them. As the silence stretched, the young adult’s self-control was slowly diminishing. He found himself leaning closer and closer until he could feel his ge’s breath on his lips—a reminder that he was breathing, a reminder that he was here. Licking his lips, he tilted his head to—

“Didi.”

The two yelped again, turning to see who was by the door. It was Yixuan-ge, peeking. Yibo would be annoyed but he actually looked guilty to have disturbed them. Actually, it was a mix of surprise and guilt. His looked as though he was trying to be polite, but his eyes held so much questions.

“Uh. I’m sorry for disturbing but I went back up to find an elderly couple on the couch, telling me my friend and his boyfriend, who apparently owned this place, was talking. And listen, as much as I’d love to let you guys, uh, do what you need to do, I also have to go.”

Yixuan-ge took a moment to absorb the sight in front of him, tilting his head. He coughed, clearing his throat, “Do I, uh. Do I bring your suitcase back up?”

Yibo snorted.

Then a laugh bubbled out of his chest.

Soon enough, he was being joined by Xiao Zhan, probably realizing how ridiculous everything was. Xuan-ge only looked even more confused but it only made the two laugh even louder.

Whatever this was, all Yibo knew was it was the weirdest fucking shit.

It was perfect.

* * *

Yibo’s cheek was smooshed against the pillow, staring at Xiao Zhan who was also lying on his side staring at him.

“Well, Xuan-ge and Seungyoun are still processing it. I think they believe it. I don’t really lie.” Zhan-ge huffed amusedly. Yibo smiled, “How about you? Your parents bought that?”

“Mhm. I said we’ve loved each other since before the accident but never got around to confess. So when we saw each other again, we acted the way we did. It also explained your hospital freak out.”

The younger tried to swallow down his embarrassment at the memory. “My mom told me how you fought for me, Lao Wang. How romantic. A whole hospital scene.”

Wang Yibo reached for Zhan-ge’s nose, pinching it, “Fucking knew I shouldn’t have left you to watch those K-Dramas.” The older adult merely giggled, swatting his hand away. Yibo caught his hand though, twining their fingers. He was still in awe that he could touch him, that he felt more than just cool breezes. He bit the inside of his cheek at he held their clasped hands in his gaze, savoring it.

“Zhan-ge.”

“Mmh?”

“Thank you.”

Yibo saw Xiao Zhan’s face pass through a multitude of emotions before it settled on to one. Suddenly, he fake-gagged, settling for a disgusted look, “Aiya, disgusting. You shouldn’t have watched those dramas with me either!”

Okay, that settles it.

Yibo let go of Xiao Zhan’s hand, then was quick to pounce on the guy, both hands settling on his ribs.

The pretty man’s laughter filled the room, and the dancer was sure he would never get tired of it.

In a blink, he was on top of him, breathing heavily, smiles plastered on both their faces.

In another, Yibo’s lips were pressed against Xiao Zhan’s soft ones.

Wang Yibo slept that night with his Zhan-ge’s voice ringing in his ears, his heart full. 

The next day, Wang Yibo woke up to bright eyes.

**End.**

**Author's Note:**

> WOW . if you reached this then wow ! anyways since i havent posted in a long time i'm feelin pretty shy but i spent a shittonna time on this as you can see . so if you liked it then thank you so much for reading 4 reading this 22k worth of bullshit ! comments and kudos would b nice ! but if not dFKAS I DONT BLAME YOU . 
> 
> anys 
> 
> i hope u hav good days and u eat well B) vibe well yo
> 
> we can b pals on twt ! @domeeneek_ but i m p shit at socializing so i m sry in advanced


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